Brothers In Arms
by kazlynh
Summary: The Emperor is dead, Darth Vader is gone, but the Empire is not yet finished... Warning - as with the movies, not all the characters survive.
1. Day 1

"Through these fields of destruction

Baptisms of fire

I've watched all your suffering

As the battles raged higher

And though they did hurt me so bad

In the fear and alarm

You did not desert me

my

**Brothers in Arms"**

Dire Straits

**Day 1**

JavraH arrived ten minutes early. Then sat for the next few minutes in mild trepidation, trying to calm her nerves, racking her memory for any reason why Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles would want to see her. Her simulator scores hadn't been **that** bad... in fact she'd done quite well in the last few outings, was way ahead of a lot of the other pilots. She smiled a little. Kennet and the others had nick-named her Tie-down because she had never been any further than the farm she grew up on... but they hadn't called her that for a while. Not after she'd whipped Kennet's butt in the sim...

There was, of course, the slight issue of the practical joke that had gone sort of sour, but that had been ages ago. Surely...

The door opened. JavraH took a deep breath, looking up. But it was only Gabhaan, one of the other rookies. He swaggered in, sitting down as if it was all a great effort for him and that it was all beneath him. JavraH looked away, rolling her eyes. Arrogant, self import, Academy trained...

"Any idea why we're here?" he asked.

"Haven't a clue."

The door opened again, and they both stood as Antilles walked in, followed by a Lieutenant and..... General Solo. What the hells, JavraH thought, is so important that Solo's involved? The three men walked across to the table, pulling out seats. Wedge remained standing as Han and Jomanock sat down, looking across at the two rookies: JavraH so obviously nervous, Gabhaan, as always, self assured.

Goddess, he thought with a pang, he could never have looked that young, could he? And yet he'd been the same age as JavraH when he flew against the Death Star at Yavin.... eons ago it seemed now, but it was what, five six years... Pushing down the memories he smiled, indicating the two empty chairs, "Please, sit down."

He took his own seat, waiting until the two young pilots had settled themselves before beginning. "The _Millennium Falcon_, under the command of General Solo, is to rendezvous with the spice freighter _Glan'enn_. She's enroute to Dantooine, but is carrying cargo and possibly new personnel for us. Gabhaan, you'll fly wingman to Lieutenant Jomanock, JavraH, you'll fly wingman to me. We'll be riding as the Falcon's escort. The trip will be easy, two jumps there, two jumps back. And if the transfer goes as planned we should be back here before nightfall."

He turned in his chair, pressing a remote, a map of a star system brightening the screen behind him. "We meet the _Glan'enn_ on the far side of Beriin system." A small red light began to pulse indicating where the freighter would be waiting. "Her routing will drop her out of hyperspace just before we arrive." He turned back to the two rookies, "Our job is to cover the _Falcon_ while she's vulnerable, during the transfer. As far as we're aware there has been no significant Imperial movement in that area lately, but that doesn't count for much. So keep your eyes and ears open. The _Glan'enn's_ Captain has made it quite clear that he won't wait around if anything gets the drop on us..."

"Can't blame him for that," Solo murmured.

"Exactly," Wedge agreed with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "So if it _does _happen, the Falcon will immediately break off." He looked round the other three pilots, "We provide covering fire until she's on her own and in hyperspace. Then we get out, meeting the _Falcon_ at the first return jump point." He leant back in his chair, attention on Gabhaan and JavraH, "As long as things go to plan, on the return route, General Solo has agreed to help us carry out real-time manoeuvres, to get the two of you used to flying battle situation outside the simulator. For that purpose, on the way back, our roles will be reversed. I'll fly as your wingman, JavraH, and Lieutenant Jomanock will fly as yours, Gabhaan. Nothing difficult, but you'll be giving orders, rather than taking them."

"Understood, Sir," JavraH said. Gabhaan merely nodded.

"Callsigns for the mission are Beta, Leader to five. I'm Beta Leader; General Solo, Beta Two; Lieutenant, Beta Three; JavraH, Beta Four; Gabhaan, Beta Five. The jump points and co-ordinates are being loaded into your astro-nav droids now, and the ground crews are checking the fighters. We leave in one hour..."

He checked his chrono, "That's oh-seven fifteen. Any further questions?" The two pilots shook their heads, "Fine. JavraH, Gabhaan: Lieutenant Jomanock and I will go over the finer points with you just before we leave. Dismissed." They rose, crossing the room quickly, the door sliding shut behind them.

Wedge leant forward again, elbows on the table, "This should be a Milk Run, gentlemen." He pushed a hard copy printout towards Han, "This is a copy of the tally. There will be eight, maybe nine crates of machine parts and, at the last count, four passengers. The _Glan'enn's_ Captain estimates that the transfer should take no more than about half an hour from docking to disengaging." Han nodded, lifting the inventory, scanning through it as Wedge turned to Jomanock, "As for the rookies, watch Gabhaan. He's not a bad pilot but he's too sure of himself. Needs to brought down a peg or two before he flies as someone's wingman for real and gets both of them killed. His instructor's words were that he's _not as good as he thinks he is_. I've got his simulator reports here of you want to read up."

Jomanock nodded, "That would be a help."

Wedge handed over the data module, grinning, "Be as nasty as you like."

"It'll be a pleasure, Sir," the Lieutenant assured him.

"So what's the story with JavraH?" Han asked.

"Almost completely the opposite. She's a natural. And she's worked hard, done her homework, but she needs to build her confidence. Her reaction time is slower than it could be because she hesitates slightly on her decisions. Most of the time the decisions are right, but it's cost her on the sim scores. We need to get that process more instinctive, and her instructors feel that putting her in the real situation will either make or break her. And if we make her, my guess is that she'll make Flight Leader within the year.... so this is important."

"Fine... How do you want me to play it?" Han asked.

"Play it hard with both of them. Push them to their limits..." Devilment flashed in his eyes, "But push JavraH even harder."

~ # # ~

The object of discussion walked down the hall in a daze. _Goddess, she was going to fly a task with Antilles: wingman to Red Leader_! Sure, it was only for a while, just this mission but..... _Goddess_!

"JavraH?" Gabhaan caught her arm, pulling her to a stop. "Jav! Have you been listening to anything I've said?" She grinned, sheepishly. "Thought not," he huffed, good naturedly, "Mooning over the Lieutenant-Colonel were we?"

She gave him a look of mock horror, "How can you possibly accuse me of that when, like every other female on the base, I'm ready to drop at _your_ feet alone?" She ducked, laughing, as he swiped at her head.

"I can't help it if I'm suave," he began, posing, "sophisticated, ruggedly good looking..."

"...modest," she finished for him, starting down the hall again.

He threw her a sour look, walking quickly to catch up with her. "I still want to know how you managed to swing it as Antilles wingman?"

"So do I," she sighed heavily.

"Ah, piece of cake!"

"Sure! With Antilles breathing down my neck, watching my every mistake. No problem!"

"You must have done something to impress him, Jav," he told her, giving her a sidelong glance, his voice sincere.

"Mmm..." she sighed, not convinced.

"Look, by this evening it'll all be over..."

She stopped, shaking her head at him in wonder, "Aren't you even the slightest bit nervous?"

"Sure," he admitted, seriously. Then turned back to her, finishing with a tight, evil little smile, "But not as nervous as I'd be with Antilles on my tail." She made a small, exasperated sound, shoving him sideways. He laughed. "Come on, I'll shout you a fruit juice. Just don't forget to pee before you climb into the fighter for four hours."

~ # # ~

JavraH walked across the hanger towards her X-wing. The Lieutenant had caught Gabhaan as they left the changing area, saying that he wanted to go over some of the mission details. JavraH sighed, her guts churning, knowing that Antilles was waiting for her out there, somewhere. The ground crew hovered round the fighter finishing the final preparations. They tossed greetings at her, not waiting for her reply. The Chief Tech waited at the bottom of the ladder. He gave her a small nod as she put her foot on the first rung, "She's all checked and ready to go, Ma'am. No problems."

JavraH looked at him, the nervousness fading slightly. He'd called _her Ma'am_.... He grinned at the surprise on her face, as if only just realising himself what he'd said. "Well," he told her, shrugging, "you won't be a Rookie after this one. You'd better get used to people calling you Ma'am." The nerves receded a little further still. She laid a hand on his shoulder, saying simply, "Thank you." Then the trepidation returned in full force as Wedge Antilles walked round the nose of the fighter towards them.

"Sir," the Chief greeted with a slight nod of his head.

Javrah turned, stepping back down off the ladder, "Sir." She saw the Lieutenant-Colonel glance at the man behind her. She didn't see the wink the Chief gave Antilles, or the quick thumbs up sign. Antilles took another step towards them.

"Chief, can you leave us for a moment."

"Surely, Sir." The man turned, moving towards the rear of the X-wing.

"Relax," Wedge told Javrah, "I'm just giving you some advance warning: it's going to be tough on the way back. General Solo's going to come at you, all guns blazing. Forget my rank, **you**'ll be in charge. If you get it wrong it doesn't matter, I won't chew you out. As far as I'm concerned you learn things better by experience, and I'm not expecting you to get it right all the time. As long as you've given it your best shot I'll be happy. You're a good pilot, JavraH, you've got potential." She smiled, slightly embarrassed, "But," he continued, "I want you to do me a favour..."

He paused, and she frowned, "Sir?"

"Your reaction times are slower than they could be, because once you've made

a decision you always ask yourself if it's the right one. Right?"

She nodded, "Yes, Sir."

"Most of the conclusions you make **are** right," he told her. "So on this mission I want you to act as soon as you've made the decision. Don't second guess yourself, just get the job done. Okay?"

"Yes, Sir."

He smiled, "Fine. And if it all goes wrong, don't worry, it won't have been your fault. This is just an experiment.... just have confidence in your abilities. Play around with the power you have as wingcontrol. A good wingman will make or break the pairing, but if the control misses the opportunities, the pairing won't be effective."

She returned the smile, telling him, "I understand, Sir."

"Good. Then enjoy yourself. But just remember, it's a long while since I was a wingman. Be kind to me if I mess up."

~ # # ~

The Controller watched the _Millennium Falcon_ as it glided slowly towards the hanger mouth. One by one, the four X-wings lifted from the floor of the dispersal bay, hovering for a moment as the gear retracted. "Control, Beta consort ready to go," Antilles' voice crackled in her ear piece.

_Now_ there _was a man_, she thought with a sigh, telling him, "Beta Consort, clear to go, number one. The _Falcon_ has already lifted."

"Clear to go, Control." The X-wings turned lazily in unison, drifting over the other ships crowded into the hanger, towards the exit. The Controller leant forward, following them out of sight. Then another ship called for her attention.

His fighter cleared the doors and Wedge pushed on the power, grinning in pleasure as the X-wing surged forward, pressing him into the seat as it climbed away from the ground vegetation into the cloudless, azure sky. _This is the life_, he thought. He glanced round. JavraH was slightly behind to his right, matching him for speed. Behind and to the left he could see the two other fighters. A shadow fell across the cockpit. Wedge looked up at the belly of the _Falcon_ as Han's voice quipped, "Glad you guys could make it!"

~ # # ~

"Ma'am, there's an incoming message... coded, priority Four."

Leia frowned, walking across the Ops room to the communications console. The Commander moved out of the chair to let her sit down, moving away. Leia punched in her authorization code as she slid into the seat. There was a moment's delay, then the message scrolled onto the screen.

Downhigher hesitated, turning back, unsettled by the Princess' sudden, sharp intake of breath. As he watched, the colour drained from her face. He took a step towards her, "Ma'am, is everything all right?"

She nodded slowly, eyes still rivetted to the screen, then turned to look at him. Giving him a wan smile she lied, "Yes... Thank you."

He turned away, shrugging. Leia down-loaded the message onto hard copy, then destroyed the log. The sheet slid from the console and she picked it up, rising slowly to her feet. Clutching the message she walked across the Ops room to Rieekan's office, the door, as always, lying open. She stood outside for a moment, running through the ramifications of the communication in her mind.

Rieekan looked up. Leia stood at the door, lost in thought. He frowned, sitting back in the chair, "Your Highness?" His voice broke the spell and she looked at him, stepping through the door, closing it behind her. Rieekan was already on his feet, walking round the desk towards her, tension tightening in his chest as he saw the look on her face. She was ashen.... "Leia, what is it?"

In answer she handed him a hard copy of a message, sinking listlessly into a chair as he scanned it. His eyes widened in dismay and he looked up at her, aghast, "For a new Senate to be set up this quickly after Palpatine's death.... they must have been planning..." He trailed off, dropping against his desk.

`"The Emperor was too sure of his immortality," she disputed. "This must have been done by the underlings... without his knowledge..." Leia shook her head in amazement, "I wonder if Palpatine knew he was losing his grasp....."

"Or he was giving those who thought to oppose him enough rope to hang themselves..." Rieekan offered, looking back down at the communication, "Whatever the reasoning, this makes our position.... worrying."

Leia gave a cold, bitter laugh, "If not impossible! A new Imperial Senate comprising the Military Governors of each world," she shook her head. "The Empire will be stronger than ever!"

"We can't afford to think like that!" he told her sharply. "Palpatine's death did the Empire great deal of damage. Look how the ranks of the Alliance are swelling. It gave the people the courage to join us. **This**," he said, shaking the print-out, "will make those who haven't, think twice! People have tasted their freedom, Your Highness. They'll remember what it feels like when the Imperial fist starts to close round them again!" He sighed, the sudden flash of ire gone, "Its just going to be that much more difficult now...."

She looked at him, her eyes glittering, the self pity already gone, "I'm sorry," she apologised, softly.

Rieekan smiled, walking the few steps towards her, placing a hand gently on her shoulder, "No need, Leia. We all have our bouts of doubt. It's what makes us who we are."

She rose, hugging him quickly. Then broke away. "Thank you," she smiled. Then indicated the message he still held in his hand, "So what are we going to do about this?"

"I think it's best to wait until we have a few more details to give people. I'll contact Mon Mothma, see what I can find out. Meanwhile, we say nothing. Once I have all the facts, I'll present them to everyone."

~ # # ~

Wedge sat in the X-wing, dosing. The first jump had gone without incident, they were half way across the second jump, and with any luck the _Glan'enn_ would have arrived bang on time and they wouldn't have to wait around for her. Then the fun would really start! And if the rookies proved their worth, when he got back he'd be able to upgrade their status from Pilot to Pilot Officer.... By which time the Controller who'd shown them out should be off duty, and a little bird had let slip that she might just be interested. He smiled, drowsily, thinking of the ground work that he'd already done: like the lyna thorn-bud he'd managed to get hold of. _That_ little delivery should be arriving with her right about...

There was a slight, almost imperceptible jolt. He snapped fully awake, alarm chimes beginning to wail. _Collision avoidance? _Denial stabbed through him as his fingers danced across the data consoles. Couldn't possibly be, he'd been through this sector before! There was nothing here to collide with.... unless the guys back at base had fed the droid the wrong damned co-ordinates.....

Then his head snapped forward as he was thrown against the restraints, an invisible hand reaching out, yanking him abruptly out of hyperspace. Adrenalin rushed into his system. _A gravity well! Goddess, only a gravity well could pull you into normal space like that! Shit, he must be close._ Fragmented stars settled around him into normal space and the Artoo unit burbled, throwing the requested data onto the screen: showing that he was exactly where he ought to be..... except....

Wedge lifted his head from the sensor display, looking dead ahead, praying that his eyes would negate what his instruments were telling him. Disbelief pushed at him, fear beginning to leaden the pit of his stomach, winding icy tendrils down his spine: his mouth suddenly dry.

"Sir, what the hells is that?" JhavraH's uncertain voice crackled in his ear piece. But another question broke in before he could answer her.

"Antilles," Han Solo asked slowly, voice tinged with cold surprise and anger, "Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?"

Wedge glanced round then checked his other side: all five ships had been pulled out of hyperspace, the Falcon and her X-wing escort. The _Falcon_ was already beginning to turn away, "If you're going to tell me that you're looking at a Death Star, then yes!"

Chewbacca growled, waving a hand in the air and Han threw a glance at him. Biting back a sarcastic remark, he spoke to Antilles instead, "That's what I thought! Let's get the hell out of here!"

"Too late!" Wedge said tersely, "They've seen us. We've got incoming, people!" A group of tiny specks had detached themselves from the massive bulk of the globe. Shit, this was a training mission! He was stuck out here with only one other seasoned fighter pilot and two rookies who'd done all their combat in simulators, more likely to shoot him out of the sky than any TIEs. "JhavraH, Gabhaan," Antilles ordered the two junior pilots, "Back trace the jump! Calculate now and escort the Falcon back to base! Jomanock, you're with me!" He pushed the throttle open, fighter accelerated away, Jomanock close on his tail.

"Antilles," Solo warned, "you don't stand a chance!"

"None of us do if we can't buy you the time to make the jump! And how the hell else is Rieekan going to warn the Alliance about this?"

On the flight deck of the _Falcon_, Han shot a look at Chewbacca who had slipped out of his seat to begin the jump calculations, warning Han that the X-wing pilot was right. Then rumbling something under his breath about Leia. Han pulled a frustrated face, loathed to leave the fight. But the TIEs were closing too fast to leave time for any discussion. And, he suddenly remembered, he was out here with rookies! Swearing, he keyed the mike, "Antilles, if they evacuate, I'll wait for you as long as I can."

Despite the grimness of the situation, Wedge smiled. He'd grown to like the Corellian, even through the front of bravado that infuriated most people. It was the small touches of friendship, just like that last comment, that showed you exactly what the real Han Solo was like. "We'll be there," he promised. "Just keep an eye on the rookies!"

"Sir...." one of the pilot's began.

"JhavraH, escort the Falcon! Get your butt out of here, that's an order!" He didn't wait for an answer. "Jomanock, stay close."

"Like glue, Sir!" The grim determination in the Lieutenant's voice brought another smile to Wedge's lips. "Deeten, calculate the jump co-ordinates. I may need them in a hurry!" The calm of imminent battle was beginning to wash through him, driving down the fear and panic as he engaged the first pair of TIEs. Gabhaan flipped his fighter round, taking up position beside JhavraH, "Ready?"

"Standby!" How could he sound so in control when her hands were shaking and she wanted to throw up? _Cause he's been to the Academy and you've never been further than your own back yard, dolt!_ Taking a deep breath she pulled herself together, one eye on the incoming TIEs. "...Ceenine, you done?" The little droid warbled, a flag on the data screen beginning to flash. "Ready!" she called, "Falcon, we've got your starboard covered. Ready to jump when you are." She glanced off to the right. Shit! They weren't going to make it.... "Gabhaan, take position! We'll need to cover the Falcon!"

"Just inputting the calculations now," Han told her. "We'll be there in five... four... three..." He risked a glance in the direction of the Death Star. Four TIEs had ignored the engagement, three of them getting too damned close for comfort. Gabhaan had followed JavraH round and she had already begun firing at the lead TIE. As he watched, the trailing Imperial ship exploded. Then the starscape disintegrated into the blur of hyperspace.

JhavraH fired at the oncoming TIEs until the Falcon shot forward and disappeared. Then spun her fighter quickly away from the answering Imperial enthusiasm, Gabhaan shadowing her. Co-ordinates locked in, Jhavrah hit the button just as a flash jolted the T-65 sideways. The fighter shuddered, sparks erupting from the front console as the starscape tried to fragment, engines fluctuating wildly out of sync. Reaching for the ejection handle she had enough time to transmit, "I'm hit!" Then the undamaged engine threw itself into hyperspace, ripping the fighter apart.

~ # # ~

Wedge fired three volleys, veering up and right as Jomanock fired, sliding down and left. One of the TIEs bucked briefly before exploding spectacularly. Another of the Imperial fighters split, following Wedge's X-wing, spitting laser fire. The remaining four, slowed only slightly by having to take avoiding action, sailed on towards the Falcon and her escort. Wedge pulled all the way round, following them, bolts of bright death spurting past him as he danced around in front of his pursuer. For a moment he had one of the other Imperial ships in his sights and fired. There was an almost immediate flare against the ship's hull and the TIE began to lose speed, falling behind its companion. Wedge allowed himself a tight smile, twisting his X-wing away as laser fire skimmed past him.

Jomanock lined the disabled TIE up in his sights, blasting it into fragments, his laser fire hitting one of the other TIEs as the first disintegrated. He pulled out, looping back towards Antilles, trying to track the TIE that his C.O. was attempting to shake. The Lieutenant winced at the blast of light that erupted from the Lieutenant-Colonel's upper starboard foil, a laser bolt brushing the tip.

The X-wing slewed momentarily out of control. Cursing, regaining command of his fighter, Wedge pushed it into a tight tumble, then snapped out of the roll, heading back towards the Falcon's position. _Damn it, get off my tail_! "Deeten, I need those co-ordinates!" Data started scrolling onto the screen. There was another flash of light behind him. The Artoo unit screamed.

"I'm on you, Boss!" Jomanock's voice said in his ear piece, "Keep coming!"

Below him Wedge caught a glimpse of something white. But the X-wing bucked suddenly sideways as the TIE pilot's aim finally hit true. Jomanock arrowed in seconds too late, guns spewing laser fire: his fighter slicing through the fireball that had been Wedge's hunter only moments before. The Lieutenant rolled his X-wing, shooting past Wedge towards the remaining TIEs. "You okay, Sir?"

Port engine output was falling dramatically, most of the other associated readouts red-lining. "I'm losing an engine! Go help them, I'll cover you!" "Pay back time!" he heard the pilot quip as he pushed the starboard engine to full power, lurching after Jomanock, trying to coax the damaged engine into some semblance of functionality. Temperature was still rising... It wasn't going to work, damn it! Come on baby, he willed it, settle down! For a brief moment the readings dipped into the green and it looked as if... then they soared into the red again and he was forced to admit defeat, Deeten warning him that the coolant pressure was dropping dangerously low.

Wedge ignored the Artoo unit as it began to squeal at him, cancelling the alarms, cursing as the core temperature in the remaining engine began to climb. Then he heard JhavraH's voice yelling that she was hit. There was a brief bloom of fire from the direction of the TIEs. Wedge swore tightly, hoping **that **had been one of the Imperials and that JhavraH had had the time to make the jump. Checking the data again he finally admitted that he'd had it. If he didn't make the jump into hyperspace now, he wasn't going to have enough power to punch through. "Jomanock...." he began.

The X-wing slammed to a sudden halt, the starboard engine beginning to howl in protest, the fighter juddering. "What the....." The data revealed the horrifying truth. His guts twisted in leaden disbelief as he realised what was wrong.

"Jomanock," he ordered, "Get the hell out of here! Now!"

"Sir...."

Wedge cut the Lieutenant off, "I'm caught in a tractor! You're on your own!"

For a brief moment Jomanock considered disobeying, going back to help. But a shower of laser fire around his fighter changed his mind. He'd already seen JhavraH's ship blow, he had no idea if the Falcon or Gabhaan had made it.... and if they hadn't he was the only one who could warn the Rebel Alliance of the existence of a third Death Star. Swallowing down the constriction in his throat he told Antilles, "Understood, Sir. May the Force be with you."

Locking the jump co-ordinates he soared away from the space station and the Lieutenant-Colonel. Laser bolts zipping past him, he hit the jump button: and accelerated into the safety of hyperspace. The TIEs, robbed of their prey, swept round, angling back towards Wedge's X-wing. Slowing as they reached the crippled Rebel fighter, they settled either side and to the front, escorting it towards the space station: dark sentinels of superiority. What the hells did they think he was going to do, Wedge thought, break free of the tractor and blow the whole place to bits! "Deeten," he ordered, shaking his head, "wipe your memory banks, erase everything!"

The droid mewled, throwing questions onto the screen, pulling a short, sharp laugh from Wedge. "Yes, Deeten, we **are** in deep trouble. But I don't think they'll melt you down. I'm sure they'll find a use for you, somewhere." Soothed, the little unit burbled then began carrying out his orders.

Wedge had left the throttle on full power and the X-wing juddered and roiled against the tractor beam that drew her inexorably towards the station, her remaining engine screaming in protest as she tried to pull the other way. Wedge attempted, briefly, to restart the other engine, but all he got was a coolant warning light that automatically shut the sequence down. He watched the readouts on the other engine slowly climbing towards the red, realising finally that his fighter wouldn't quite blow herself apart before they got to him. Still it had been worth a try.

The adrenalin and calm of battle was dying now, leaving fear to settle sickeningly in the pit of his stomach. The bulk of the station loomed ever closer. The bulk, Wedge finally appreciated now that he had the time to think it through, of a _fully complete_ Death Star! Goddess... that meant that all the time they had been planning the destruction of the station at Endor, focused on the fact the Palpatine would be there; all that time **this** must have been sitting in hiding somewhere_. Palpatine must have been laughing all the way to Endor_, he thought, bitterly. Set the Rebels up against an easy target, one that looks only half finished..... And while they had been learning, to their cost, just how incomplete that station **had** been; while they had been celebrating the demise of the Empire, laying plans to set up a new Republic; this monstrosity had been lurking out of sight....

Closing his eyes, feeling suddenly and totally drained, he tried to swallow down the emotion. Would this damned bloodshed and killing never end? How many times could the Alliance be knocked back before it finally disintegrated? They had thought the war almost won after the victory at Endor; all over the galaxy people had celebrated.... And then they'd realised that the war was far from over, that the Empire still lingered on in some sort of existence. Even without the Emperor.

With a slight bump the X-wing settled onto the floor of the hanger. Wedge opened his eyes, blinking briefly in the light. Then looked around at the ranks of white armoured troops assembled to greet him. He wasn't afraid, he told himself! So why did he want to throw up? He sat, waiting. His hands were sweating, the rest of his body was freezing, and he wiped his palms on the legs of his flight suit.

Finally he sensed movement at his side, but he forced himself not to move, gazing straight ahead into the cockpit. Panic welled up again, but he thrust it down, forcing himself to take deep, even breaths. The canopy clicked, then began to hiss open. He closed his eyes, willing himself to stay calm. The deafening wail of the engine reverberated round the hanger over the blare of a klaxon. Above the cacophony he heard someone yell, "Get out!"

Slowly, he opened his eyes, looking round. A grey garbed officer stood on a mobile platform, flanked by a rank of Stormtroopers, their rifles pointing into the cockpit. With as much grace and dignity as he could muster, Wedge undid the harness, flipping the straps off his shoulders and stood; pulling off the flight helmet, running his hand through his hair. Then swung his legs over the side of the X-wing, dropping the few inches onto the platform. The officer regarded him coldly as two of the troopers swung their rifles down, grabbing hold of Wedge's arms.

Beneath them, Wedge was aware of technicians swarming in, moving around the other side of the fighter. Moments later, as the platform descended towards the ground, the scream of the engine wound chromatically down towards a bearable level. The soldiers pushed him forward, off the ramp. The officer grabbed the flight helmet from him, dropping it beside the X-wing as another, higher ranking, officer walked up to them. The man stood for a moment, hands clasped behind his back, surveying the catch. Wedge looked back at him, keeping his face neutral. The officer lashed out, backhanding Wedge across the face, snapping his head back. "Rebel scum!"

Wedge recovered himself, shock turning to anger. Tasting blood in his mouth, he licked away the thin trickle on his lip as another stormtrooper stepped forward, fixing binders round his wrists. The officer turned, ordering, "Bring him!"

~ # # ~

The Falcon dropped out of hyperspace, running in towards the red/cream planet, Solo already on the radio. "Mitre Base, this is Beta Two. Do you read?"

A hiss of static, then a slightly bemused voice answered, "Beta Two, this is Mitre Base. You forget something?"

Wishing, with all his heart, **that** was all that was wrong, Han keyed the mike, "Mitre Base, Run aborted. I say again, Run aborted. Code two alert! Request landing instructions?"

"Code two acknowledged, Falcon." The tone of the voice had changed, now completely business-like, "Route direct to the West entrance. Request data on fighter escort?"

Before he could answer a younger voice broke in, "Mitre Base, Mitre Base, this is Beta Five, do you read?"

"Beta Five," the Controller answered, voice calm, steady, filled with authority, "this is Mitre Base. Go ahead."

There was a moment's silence, when Han could almost hear the young pilot pulling himself together. Chewie barked a comment and Han nodded grimly, "Yeah. But I'd be pretty shook up if I were him. This was supposed to be a milk run!"

The Controller was talking again, not waiting for the fighter pilot's reply, "Beta Five, route direct to the West Entrance. Beta Two approximately two minutes ahead, report if you get him in sight."

"Roger that, Mitre Base," Gabhaan responded, relief tinging his voice. "Beta Two....?"

"Just follow us in, Kid!"

"...JavraH's gone."

Han grimaced at Chewie, who remained silent, "Understood, Kid. Just follow us in."

"Following," was the only reply.

Then another, more urgent voice burst onto the frequency, "Mitre Base, this

is Beta Three, do you read?"

"Beta Three, Mitre Base, go ahead."

"Code One! Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles in enemy hands!"

Chewbacca groaned. Han closed his eyes briefly, his mood sinking even further. He keyed the mike after Mitre had acknowledged Jomanock's call, "Mitre, we'll need to brief Governor Rieekan and the Princess Leia as soon as we land."

There was a slight pause, then the sweet, lovely voice that he adored more than anything else in the galaxy told him, "We'll be waiting, Han."

"Leia..." he began, starting to warn her to begin an evacuation immediately. Then wondered if he should wait until they were on the ground. The image of the Death Star loomed up in his mind... along with memories of the frantic flight from Hoth. And the people who had been left behind there to die. For a desperate moment he wished vehemently for the carefree life of the smuggler he had been, hating the rank that sat so heavily on him now.

Then Leia's concerned voice cut through everything, swamping that desire, "Han... what is it?"

Taking a deep breath he glanced at Chewbacca, who shrugged. "Leia you'd better advise Rieekan to start an evacuation. Now."

~ # # ~

Wedge's jaw throbbed as he trudged numbly along the corridors of the Death Star behind the Imperial Officer. The binders bit into the skin of his wrists, the stormtroopers' grip tight around his upper arms. But behind the facade of compliance, he drank up the details of the station. Despite the grimness of the situation he'd found some hope, remembering that Princess Leia had survived the first Death Star... and Luke the second. Sure, the situation was hopeless, but things sometimes had a funny way of turning out. And if he told himself that often enough, he might just begin to believe it.

Finally they emerged from a corridor into a large open area. Ranks of consoles marched elegantly from the outer edge towards a star dappled observation window. Black uniformed personnel moved purposefully about their duties, some glancing at the newcomers: most ignoring them. The officer from the hanger strode across the deck towards a tall, slim, white haired man, "Sir, the prisoner is here."

Grand Moff Anjouk turned. Amongst the sleek, dark elegance of his bridge, the Rebel pilot's bright, orange flight suit looked rather incongruous. The pilot returned his gaze, calmly. Well, Anjouk admitted magnanimously, courage was one of the two things the Rebel Alliance did not lack. The other was stupidity. He turned to the Intelligence Officer, "Well?"

"The larger ship was the Millennium Falcon, Sir. We have no data yet on the two fighters who escaped. The prisoner's ship," he continued, glancing up at the Rebel, "bears the markings of Red Leader: Lieutenant-Colonel Wedge Antilles."

Anjouk quirked an eyebrow, "Antilles...." A man who occupied a not unimpressive place on the Imperial wanted list. What sort of mission would have called for the Millennium Falcon to be escorted by one of the Rebel Alliance's most skilled fighter pilots. Hands clasped behind his back, he walked across to the pilot. "I must admit to being rather taken aback by your reaction to seeing this Space Station, Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles."

If the Rebel was surprised that Anjouk knew his identity, he gave no sign. Anjouk smiled. "Surely the Rebel Alliance could not have been so naive as to believe that the Emperor would commission only one Death Star? Or was the collective Rebel astonishment just as great when you encountered the third station at Endor?"

That got a reaction: quickly covered, but most definitely there! Anjouk suppressed a smile. "Tell me, Lieutenant-Colonel, what was so important about your mission that it called for not only the Millennium Falcon, but Red Leader as escort?"

Antilles opened his mouth, but Anjouk held up a hand, silencing him, "No, no! Let me guess? You would rather die then divulge any information! Am I right?" He took a step closer to the Rebel, "Believe me, Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles, die: you will. Unfortunately, not before you tell me everything I want to know!" Turning, moving away he continued, "You see, you know so much information that will be useful to us." He gave Antilles a malicious smile, "Contrary to popular Rebel belief, the Empire is far from dead... There were those of us unconvinced with the Emperor's objectives, culminating with his plans at Endor. Indeed, the Emperor seemed more preoccupied with trying to capture the Rebel _Skywalker_," he said the name like a dirty word and was rewarded with a flare of anger in Antilles' eyes, "than crushing the Rebel Alliance. Therefore, and at much risk to our own lives, a small group of the most high ranking officers put together the corner stones of an agenda to fall back on: should anything unpleasant happen to the Emperor. An agenda which swung smoothly into action after the unfortunate events of Endor. As we speak, a Military Senate is being convened. Within days, Palpatine's Empire will, once again, be one, cohesive force!"

"Which brings me to you, Lieutenant-Colonel. Not only do you have knowledge of the current political situation within the Rebel Alliance, know how the minds of Mothma, Organa, Skywalker and the rest work, there's the troop movements you must surely have been privy to: ships who are supplying the Alliance with the consumables and hard wear you must so desperately need; locations of hidden bases and so much more... You see how important you are, Lieutenant-Colonel? With your help we can take a massive step closer to destroying your precious Rebel Alliance and establishing the identity of the reformed Empire!"

Anjouk stepped back towards Antilles, "However, you have something of much greater importance to me, Lieutenant-Colonel. The Death Star at Endor was destroyed, something I believe you were instrumental in, because it was incomplete. But you were also very involved in the destruction of Tarkin's, Death Star at Yavin! And as you obviously have information that even the Lord Darth Vader was unable to give the Emperor, you, Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles, are going to help me prevent the same situation occurring on this space station!"

The Rebel regarded him for a moment, then said, softly, "In your dreams!"

"No, my dear Lieutenant-Colonel," Anjouk countered, giving him a chilling smile, "In **your** nightmares!" He turned his back, ordering simply, "Take him down!"

~ # # ~

General Lando Calrissian, Commanding Officer of the Jade Fleet ground troops lounged against the door, watching as Luke Skywalker, delicately balanced on one hand, placed his other hand on the floor then slowly let his body swing down. Stopping the movement once his torso and legs were parallel to the floor, he lifted the first hand away, balancing on the other.

Luke felt his arm muscles beginning to tremble, despite his manipulation of the Force, warning him that he'd done enough for today. Slowly he let his legs drop until they touched the floor. Then, pushing off, he launched himself into the air, back flipping neatly, intending to land on the balls of his feet.

An image, sharp and agonizing, slammed at him, breaking his concentration. He landed awkwardly, his ankle twisting, pitching him to the floor. The impact jarred along his arm and shoulder. He lay still, gathering the Force again, reaching out towards the source of the vision. It was almost gone, but the traces were enough: Wedge Antilles lying, beaten and unconscious, on the floor of an Imperial detention cell, surrounded by black uniformed personnel. There was a vague impression of someone else there, he could almost see the orange flight suit they wore. But the image had slipped from his grasp, although the terrified resolve he had sensed from Wedge remained: the encounter leaving him cold, weak and empty.

Lando had, at first, laughed as Luke landed in an inelegant heap on the floor. But as the seconds passed and his friend didn't move, Lando moved towards him, concern growing. He crouched by the young Jedi, placing a hand on his shoulder, "Luke?" Skywalker's face was ashen, breathing coming in rapid shallow gasps. His eyes were open, pupils dilated. Lando swore, turning towards the door to get help. But Luke made a small sound and Lando hesitated, dropping back down beside him, "Luke?"

Skywalker turned his head, looking at Lando, then began to sit up. Lando

helped him, asking, "Are you okay? You took a real funny turn."

Luke nodded, sitting on the floor, rubbing his hand across his face, "I'm fine... I... I just sensed something... that.." Yoda's voice came, unbidden, to his mind: _one of many possible futures have you seen_. But the cell had seemed so familiar, as if he had once been there himself. "I have to go to the Mitre Base, Lando."

"Mitre? For what?" Lando's voice was concerned, unsure.

Luke shook his head, "I.... something's wrong, I could sense it. I think Wedge could be in trouble."

~ # # ~

Leia was waiting at the bottom of the ramp as he strode down, Chewbacca two steps behind. "Han," she began, but he held up a finger silencing her, gathering her to him. Chewbacca moved in protectively on the other side. "Wait 'til we get everyone together. Have the others landed..." He broke off, turning his attention to the commotion off to the left. Then Gabhaan broke through the throng, closely followed by Jomanock. Their faces were pale, Gabhaan's knuckles white as he clutched his flight helmet. Leia had seen through Han's deceptively casual manner, couldn't mistake the other pilots' obvious distress, and took control. Slipping out of Han's embrace she briefly squeezed his hand, telling them all, "Governor Rieekan and the others are waiting, Gentlemen. Come with me, please!"

Han dropped into step between the two fighter pilots as they began to walk across the hanger. "You guys okay?"

Gabhaan nodded, not trusting himself to speak. But Jomanock answered, "I've been better, Sir."

Han hesitated for a moment, then decided that the man was going to be questioned anyway, he may as well get used to it. Gently, he asked, "What happened, Lieutenant?"

Jomanock refused to look at the Corellian, guilt welling up inside him, "They got him in a tractor beam..." He stopped, taking a long, deep breath before he could continue, "He ordered me to leave. We couldn't be sure that you'd make it back."

"You did the right thing," Han told him, giving him a side-long glance.

"Doesn't stop me feeling like shit, Sir."

Chewbacca listened to the exchange wishing, not for the first time, that he could speak the human's language: wanting to give the pilot some words of comfort. He too had once had to leave a friend behind in the clutches of the Empire. Only, Han had been returned to them alive. The chances of Antilles getting out of this in one piece were slim. Too slim. Chewbacca would never forget the feelings of loss, helplessness and guilt that had gripped him on Bespin. He wanted Jomanock to know that someone understood what he was going through. But having no way to do so, he remained silent.

Han turned for a moment, as if sensing his friend's sadness. But they had reached the briefing room, and any comment Han was going to make was forgotten.

~ # # ~

"Sir?"

Anjouk turned. "Sir," the Major continued, "We are picking up what may be the ejection module of a T-65 fighter. Do you wish us to investigate and retrieve it?"

"Why wasn't this recognised before, Major?"

The officer swallowed, "I'm sorry, Sir, but there was no way of knowing before. If it **is** an escape module, the retrieval beacon hasn't been activated. Debris was shielding it, Sir. It's only just cleared enough for us to see that there's something more substantial there."

_Two_, Anjouk thought. _Two Rebels_! This could prove most interesting for the officers tasked with interrogating Antilles. Concealing a smile he turned away, ordering, "If the Rebel is alive, bring it on board."

~ # # ~

Rieekan stopped pacing as the door opened, turning towards the conference table, indicating that everyone should sit. But Solo was already saying, "Sir we have a major problem! We got yanked out of hyperspace by.... by a Death Star."

Leia had known that the news was bad, but never had she expected something so devastating... This, coupled with the news they had received from Coruscant not long after the Beta squad left... She collapsed slowly into her chair.

Rieekan gazed open mouthed at the Corellian, then said, softly, "You'd better start from the beginning, General Solo."

Han sighed, shooting a look at Chewie as he sat down. "We'd made the first jump, were about half a parsec into the second, through the Crevan system. The proximity alarms went off and then we were dragged out of hyperspace. And there it was, almost directly ahead. Antilles and the Lieutenant here tried to buy time for us to make the jump back... but JhavraH didn't make it."

"I saw her X-wing go up just as I began the jump, Sir," Gabhaan offered.

"I see," Rieekan said, slowly. "And Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles?"

"The Lieutenant-Colonel was hit and lost one of his engines," Jomanock told him. "We'd taken out two of the TIEs, but another four got through us and headed for the Falcon and the rook.." he began, then finished, "...other X-wings. The Lieutenant-Colonel told me to leave him and go after the TIEs, that he would cover me. I heard JavraH yell that she was hit, saw an explosion. Then the Lieutenant-Colonel shouted that he was caught in a tractor beam. He ordered me to leave... and I left him, Sir." The self recrimination hung heavily in the air, but no-one contradicted the young man. Now was not the time.

"Are you sure that the..." Rieekan hesitated for a moment, as if having trouble saying the words, "Death Star was.... fully complete?"

Han sighed, "As far as I could see. But Jomanock got a lot nearer. I didn't stick around to get too close a look."

"It appeared fully operational, Governor. I logged all the sensor data, there should be something in that."

"Then we were right to pre-note the evacuation. I'll countersign the order. As much as I hate to say it, I don't think anyone here is naive enough to assume that Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles won't break under questioning. And if there's a Death Star coming after us, we may not have much time. Lieutenant, Officer Gabhaan, rejoin your flights. As far as it goes you were attacked at the first jump point. Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles had to eject and is now in enemy hands. Nothing is to be said about this new threat, understood? We can discuss the situation more fully.... later!"

They all murmured assent. Rieekan nodded, "Very well. Dismissed."

Leia remained seated as they all rose to leave. Rieekan stopped as he passed her, "I'll appraise Mon Mothma and the others of the situation, Your Highness." She glanced up at him, nodding numbly.

Han turned at the door, realising that she was still sitting at the table. Chewbacca rumbled a question. Han shook his head, moving aside to let Rieekan past, "No. You go ahead, I'll be there as soon as I can." The Wookiee began to turn away, but Han stopped him, "Chewie, see if you can make sure that no-one badgers Jomanock and Gabhaan about what's happened. The less people ask, the easier it'll be on them."

Chewbacca nodded, moving back along the corridor towards the hanger.

Leia sat, head in her hands. "You okay?" Han asked, gently.

Leia looked up at him, her face white, "Oh Han...." She shook her head, looking away. "It all seemed so simple after Endor... Palpatine was dead, the Death Star destroyed... the spectacular beginning of the end for the Empire. Even after the euphoria wore off and we saw just how well the Empire still appeared to be functioning, I was still able to convince myself that we were on our way, finally, to ridding ourselves of it. That, give a little time, the Empire would slowly crumble into nothing... But now..." A tear slid down her cheek and she dashed it away, "Now..."

"Hey," Han attempted, "it's only a Death Star! We've already destroyed the other two!"

She looked at him, another tear spilling down her cheek, "Han, they've reconvened the Senate on Coruscant: with the Military Governors who are now in control. We received word just after you left."

Han blinked, turning away to try and hide his dismay, knowing what this meant to the Rebellion: the Empire was no-where near as ready to fall apart as they'd thought.

"And now Wedge is gone," she was continuing, her voice trembling, "and all I can think about is..." She broke down and Han drew her to her feet, holding her close, stroking her head gently as she sobbed against him.

This, he thought, had been a long time coming. She had bottled up too much fear and grief, shouldering it along with all the other responsibilities that had fallen to her. Not once had she spoken to him about what happened to her on the Death Star, although Luke had told him that she had watched Alderaan destroyed. She had resolutely swept aside her emotions. Even before Hoth she had thrown herself into restructuring the Alliance, using the little influence she still had as a Princess of Alderaan to get what the Alliance so desperately needed. And then into finding him.

On Endor she had almost broken down. But not fully. And he loved her for it, loved her even more now.

Finally she pushed herself away and he held her shoulders, looking down at

her. She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. "Sorry."

He grinned at her, then kissed her lightly on the forehead, "For what, Your

Royalness... admitting that you're human?"

~ # # ~

Lanine's relief had arrived and she'd given up the seat to him, handing over without thinking. And then the enormity of the whole situation had suddenly crashed in on her. While she'd been working; while she'd been sorting out the traffic that suddenly flared into life when, almost immediately after the General's warning, Rieekan had called the evacuation; during that time, she'd been able to forget Beta Three's words. But now that she was standing here with nothing to do... She looked at the thorn-bud lying in her hand, encased in its delicate wrapping, the words echoing in her mind: _Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles in enemy hands..._

"_A little bird tells me_," the message attached to the wrapping read, "_that you would do_ almost anything _for meila pastries_.... _Would the _almost anything_ include having dinner with a pilot_? _Have an answer when I get back, or the pastries get it_!" He'd signed it simply, "_Wedge_" then scrawled beside it, "(_that's Red Leader, just in case you were wondering_)"

She closed her eyes, swallowing down the lump that had appeared in her throat. _Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles in enemy hands_... A tear slid unchecked down her cheek. She felt a hand on her arm, opened her eyes, lifting her head. Darik, the Ops Officer, stood in front of her, his face concerned. Only half an hour before he'd been pulling fun at her, joking about the thorn-bud and ground crew who fraternised with air crew. She looked back down at the flower, the action causing tears to spill down her cheeks. She was only half aware of movement at Darik's side, then he was handing her the cup of hot, sweet cafin that one of the Lieutenant's had brought her. She tried to push it away, but he placed it firmly in her hand, "Drink it, Commander!"

She was shaking, the hot liquid spilling over the side of the cup. Gently, he lifted the flower from her other hand, laying it in his own palm, repeating, "Drink it!" She wrapped her hands round the cup, steadying it and he waited until she'd taken the first sip, then told her, "I'll be back in a minute."

She stared at the cafin, not seeing him bend down beside the Controller, asking him something. The man glanced round quickly, a frown of sympathy brushing his forehead. He nodded. Darik patted his shoulder in thanks, then moved back across to her. He'd shared the watch with her for the last two years, the longest time he'd ever worked with anyone since he joined the Rebel Alliance, and he knew her better than he knew his own sister. "If you want, I can get someone else in? If you need some time..."

She was shaking her head, exactly what he'd expected, "I'd rather... work."

"Fine. Finish that, then you can get back on duty." He turned, beckoning the Lieutenant who had brought the cafin. "Find a box, or something, to put this in," he told him, holding out the flower, pulling his hand back before the man could reach for it. The Lieutenant nodded, turning away.

She was finishing the last dregs of cafin. Darik exchanged the thorn-bud for the cup. She wiped at her face with the free hand, pulling herself together. "Okay?" he asked. She nodded quickly, then walked past him towards the Controller's position. She lifted her headset from the niche, slipping it on.

"What have you got?" The other man outlined the traffic situation, pointing out the ships and their different needs. She nodded, "Fine, I've got it." He slid out of the seat, peeling off his headset. Placing the thorn-bud on the console in front of her, she sat down.

Darik stood a little way behind her, hearing her order, "Negative, _Sperrin_. Hold position, I will call you." He beckoned the other Controller with a wave of his hand. The man moved across to join him. "Can you stay here and monitor her," Darik asked him. "**Subtly**," he stressed, "just in case. She should be okay, but I can't take the risk...."

"No problem, Sir. If she loses it, I'll let you know before I take over. **If**,"

he emphasised, "she loses it."

Darik nodded, his face grim, turning away to his other duties. This was a bad

business, he thought. A bad, bad business.

~ # # ~

The door crashed open. Wedge pulled himself to his feet, the cold of the floor seeping quickly into the soles of his feet. They'd stripped him of his flight suit and boots, leaving him only the fawn uniform trousers and shirt. Two Imperial officers stepped down into the cell, half dragging/half carrying another orange clad form. The cascade of dark wavy hair had escaped its confining band and hung down across her face, leaving Wedge in no doubt as to who it was.

They reached the bottom step and unceremoniously dropped JhavraH face down onto the floor. Wedge remained where he was, waiting until they had gone before he made his move. He dropped to one knee beside her, reaching out, gently turning her over. She moaned softly. Her eyes flickered briefly, but remained closed. He held her, cradling her head in the crook of his arm, brushing the hair away from her face.

There had been a fire in the cockpit; the front of her suit blackened, her face smudged with soot. Part of the front console must have fallen across her legs, burning the boots. The sharp metal had cut into the fabric of her flight suit, destroying any fire retardence. Blood mingled with the dirt.

The door crashed open again. "She needs medical attention!" Wedge demanded of whoever was there, not looking up. The Interrogation Officer smiled, sauntering down the few steps into the cell, two others following, taking up position either side of the door. "That," he told the Rebel pilot, "is entirely up to you, Lieutenant-Colonel. If you decide to be reasonable, then so shall I."

Wedge looked slowly up at the man, mouth tightening into a hard line of disgust and anger. JhavraH's head moved against his arm and he glanced back down. Her eyes were open, glazed with pain, but aware. A small frown brushed across her forehead. It was obvious that she'd heard the comment and knew exactly what it meant. Wedge saw and understood the slight shake of her head. Flashing her a quick grin, filling his voice with anger and loathing, he told the Imperial, "Go to Hell!"

A smile tugged briefly at her lips, then her eyes slid closed.

The two officers at the door were moving round him. They grabbed his arms, dragging him to his feet and away from JhavraH. The Interrogator regarded him, eyes glinting, "Then we shall have to find a way to make you more reasonable."

He swiped at JhavraH's legs with his foot. She screamed.

Wedge ripped free of the guards, launching himself at the officer, sending him flying backwards: both of them crashing to the floor. Wedge's hands clamped round the man's neck, slamming his head off the deck. A klaxon began to wail, then the other Imperials were trying to drag him off their colleague. Light exploded through his head, stunning him, as one of them hit him with the butt of a pistol. But he refused to let go. He was aware of more people rushing into the cell, then pain flashed through his head again. His grip on the officer slackened and they finally succeeded in hauling him away from the Imperial. A boot slammed into his back and he yelped. The boot struck again.... and again. Instinctively he tried to turn away, but another blow to his head brought shadows rushing in, leaving him only half conscious as the beating continued... dropping him, finally, into darkness.

When awareness returned, they were all still in the cell. He lay on his side, a stormtrooper standing at his shoulder, rifle aimed at his chest. The others were helping the Interrogator to his feet. The man stepped towards him, but Wedge was having difficulty trying to focus. From far away he heard someone say, "You have just signed your Rebel whore's death warrant!" The blurred image of the officer grabbed something from one of the others, pointing it at JhavraH. The explosion of sound stabbed through Wedge as the man fired a pistol. Then they were moving out of the cell, the stormtrooper backing towards the door, rifle still aimed at the Rebel prisoner's heart.

But Wedge had slipped back into unconsciousness before the stormtrooper had even reached the steps.

~ # # ~

"You take care, Artoo," Threepio was lamenting as Luke clambered up the side of the fighter.

"You're sure about this?" Lando Calrissian asked him again.

Luke glanced down as he dropped into the seat, nodding grimly, "Positive. Something is wrong, I can feel it."

Calrissian, still not totally convinced, smiled at him indulgently. "Well then, safe journey." He backed away, Threepio following as the ground crew began removing coolant pipes and ladders. The canopy hissed closed. Luke ran through the start checks, waiting for the Chief Tech to give him the thumbs up, before turning the engines. Read-outs rose, then settled into the normal pattern. "Ready Artoo?"

The droid burbled. Luke glanced at the screen, smiling. "Threepio will be fine without us, Artoo. Lando will take care of it." Shaking his head at the droid's chirruped enthusiasm, Luke called, "Control, this is Sandman. Requesting clearance to lift."

"Sandman, lift at your discretion."

Luke acknowledged, turning his attention to the marshaller, who gently guided him off the ground, ensuring that the X-wing wouldn't collide with any of the others crowded into the hanger. Satisfied that the fighter was clear and free, he signalled that Skywalker was on his own. Luke lifted a hand in acknowledgement, then eased the X-wing towards the hanger mouth.

"Sandman, your departure approved, you are number one to go. Force be with you, Colonel."

"Clear to go, Control. See you later."

The X-wing sailed out of the hanger into the starlit darkness of space. Luke checked that the co-ordinates were locked as they glided away from the frigate, then settled back, the hyperdrive pushing him gently into his seat as the stars fragmented into the incandescent corridor of hyperspace.

~ # # ~

"Sir," the Lieutenant warned him, "incoming transmission from Coruscant."

Anjouk turned, striding across the command deck towards his private retreat, his sanctuary from the rigours of command, "In my office!" he ordered.

The lights rose automatically as he walked across the soft carpeting towards his desk. He sat down, leaning back in the chair, turning it towards the viewscreen that covered most of the far wall. The picture snapped into existence. Anjouk smiled in greeting at the dark haired, pristine uniformed figure: the Grand Moff's counterpart in the Imperial Senate, "Baile, my old friend, how goes the Empire?"

"Very well, Gahn," Baile told him pleasantly, flashing a wide, content grin, "Very well, indeed. As expected after our little announcement, there was some unrest on the more far flung worlds... but nothing to warrant your intervention. Yet!" He shook his head, "There are always those who neither understand nor appreciate what is best for them."

"Indeed," Anjouk agreed, frowning in sympathy.

"Rest assured, however," Baile continued, "their rumblings will be.... calmed." He shrugged, dismissing the irritation, "But to other things. You wished to discuss something with me?"

"Yes," Anjouk began, choosing his words carefully, "I have some news..."

"Fortunate or unfortunate?" Baile asked, eyes narrowing at the tone in the Grand Moff's voice.

"Both sides of the coin, my friend," Anjouk placated before conceding, "There has been a small incident.... which unfortunately will have resulted in the Rebel Alliance now being aware of the existence of this station. We were stumbled upon by a small number of their ships.... Unfortunately, not all were destroyed."

Baile frowned, deep in thought, "That shouldn't create too much of a problem. Obviously it destroys the advantage of surprise when your services are finally called upon.... but rumours coming from the Alliance itself may actually work to our benefit..."

"We have one other advantage," Anjouk broke in, keeping his face neutral as Baile raised an eyebrow, "We captured one of the Rebels alive..." It wasn't completely the truth, but having just been informed by his own, private sources, of the girl's death, he wasn't about to admit that he had lost a prisoner, "It has turned out to be an interesting acquisition."

Baile leaned forward, eagerly, "They're talking?"

"Not," Anjouk confessed, "quite. But the information he will ultimately supply be extremely useful." He smiled, "It appears that we have procured the services of Lieutenant-Colonel Wedge Antilles."

"Antilles..." Baile muttered, frowning, trying to place the name, "Antilles..."

"Better known in Alliance circles as Red Leader," Anjouk offered.

The name fell into place, "Antilles!" Baile's face lit up, "You have indeed been fortunate, old friend."

"I thought that the news would interest you. My officers are working on him as we speak."

"Good. Good," Baile enthused, "Contact me again once you have gained some information. In the meantime, I will inform the rest of the Senate of your catch."

~ # # ~

Wedge opened his eyes. The blurred image of JhavraH lay across the floor. He tried to push himself into a sitting position, but pain knifed along his spine, the room spinning sickeningly. Groaning, he closed his eyes, waiting until his stomach settled: trying at the same time to find the energy to move. Instinct told him to lie where he was, that trying to move was going to hurt... but he had to get to JhavraH.

Finally, bracing himself, he flopped over onto his front and crawled the vast, few feet to the other pilot. The exertion left him nauseatingly weak and he had to rest again before reaching out, searching for a pulse against her neck. She was cold, her skin waxen to the touch. No pulse beat against his fingers.

He laid his head on the floor as guilt and grief stabbed at him, letting his arm fall across her; dropping slowly into blissful darkness once more.

~ # # ~

Han lifted another box from the trolley, turning to hand it to Chewbacca. The Wookiee, taking hold of it, growled that Leia was on her way. Han turned, absently rubbing at the ache in the small of his back as he watched her make her way across the hanger. The dark circles under her eyes had lifted, he noticed with relief, and she looked more in control now than she ever had. She returned his wide smile as she reached him, "We've just received a message from Lando."

"That old pirate! What did he want?"

"Luke's on his way here."

Chewbacca rumbled a question and Leia shook her head, "I don't think he could know about the evacuation, we've kept that under wraps for the moment. But with Luke you never know. The message just said that he'd "gone all weird" and had left the fleet for here."

Han glanced at Chewie, then asked her, "Do you have any idea?"

Leia shook her head, "He's too far away for me to sense anything from him."

"Well, we'll find out when he arrives! Until then," he said, taking hold of her shoulders, kissing her lightly on the forehead, "we've all got things to do!"

She smiled, reaching up, brushing his lips with her own. His arm dropped to her waist and she broke free, grinning, "You've got work to do, remember?"

He pulled a face as she turned away, walking across the hanger, throwing him a quick look before disappearing into the melee. Han looked at Chewbacca, "What do you think?"

The Wookiee rumbled an answer and Han gave him a rueful smile, reaching for another crate, "Yeah. Me too."

~ # # ~

Luke waited for a few moments, watching that everything remained in the green. Now that he was actually out here and on his way, doubt was beginning to creep in. Maybe he was over-reacting.... What he had seen in his meditation was only one of many possible futures: Yoda had warned him about that .... But this time there was something different, something that he couldn't quite identify. He couldn't shake off the feeling that it wasn't the future he had seen, that it was the present. But...

The image loomed up again: Wedge lying on the floor of an Imperial cell surrounded by black uniformed personnel. Closing his eyes, regulating his breathing he schooled himself towards meditation. The peaceful calm evaded him, broken each time by the image of Wedge. Finally he rejected meditation, holding on to the image, focusing his attention on the pain and the fear that he sensed, trying to project his presence towards his friend. For a moment it seemed that it might work, then the Dark Side reared up, pushing against his concentration, tempting him to let it in_. Use your anger to destroy the _

_pain...._

"No!" Luke pushed the Dark Side away, wrenched himself from the vision of Wedge, his concern for the young man leaving his heart thumping inside his chest, sweat breaking out across his forehead. The sense of foreboding returned, stronger than before. Sighing, he rested his head on the back of the chair, letting himself fall into a restless sleep.

Someone was calling his name, dragging him back towards painful consciousness. For a moment, before he opened his eyes, Wedge couldn't work out why he hurt so much. Then it all came crashing back in... But that had been Luke's voice! Fear gripped him, his eyes flying open. _No, please! Goddess, it couldn't be... how could they have..._

But he was lying on the cell floor, alone. Relief eased the pain slightly.

They had removed JhavraH's body. He attempted to sit up, but fire raced along his spine, across his back, stealing his breath. Flashes of light danced across his eyes, blinding him and he lay back down. The Death Star thrummed around him, the noise grating inside his head. He found his mind drifting, his body alert for the sound of footsteps. Funny how he'd never really seen himself going out like this, always saw himself dying in a blaze of fire during some battle.... not this. But more surprising was the calm realisation that he had accepted death. Any hope of heroic escape attempts had died with JavraH....

He pushed that thought away, guilt pricking at his consciousness. If he hadn't gone for that little shit she'd still be..... dead, he finally admitted to himself. They'd have tortured her to make you talk and she'd still have died! _Ah, JavraH, I'm sorry, Kiddo_.

The image of her soot smudged face smiled at him in his mind.

The door opened. He kept his eyes closed, listening to the booted feet thudding into the cell. Three of them: what a surprise. Hands grabbed him, dragging him up. Pain exploded, ripping across his back. He cried out, his legs for a moment unable to support his weight. He opened his eyes, but the flashing, whirling kaleidoscope of light in his head, left him all but blind.

"Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles, this could be so much easier for you if you would just co-operate," someone was telling him. "The obvious conclusion is that you will give us the information we want. Why make it more difficult on yourself?"

Wedge remained silent. The man was right, they would make him talk. But all that he had to do was stall them long enough to let Mitre evacuate... It wasn't the dying that frightened him any more: acceptance had brought with it an unforeseen peace that he'd never dreamed he could experience. No, it wasn't the dying, it was the way he died... He acknowledged that he would break.... the terror was that he would break too soon...

The man was sighing, "Very well, Lieutenant-Colonel. We'll play it your way." Then they were dragging him backwards, shoving him up against the bulkhead. Restraining clamps slid from the wall, locking round his wrists, neck and waist. Someone was tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. "One last time, Lieutenant-Colonel. Will you co-operate?"

Fire rippled along his spine and across his back, the kaleidoscope of rainbow coloured lights still blinded him, pins and needles rapping at his fingers.

He took a breath. "Go to hell."


	2. Day 2

**Day 2**

The first ship laden with personnel, supplies and equipment was already leaving orbit as the X-wing dropped into normal space. Alarms chimed, warning Luke that the freighter had a weapons lock on him. He keyed the mike, "Mitre Base, this is Sandman."

"Sandman, Mitre Base. Go ahead."

"Cruising in on your dark side, requesting landing instructions?"

"Sandman route towards the North Entrance. Hold clear at three miles. Traffic: two freighters plus escort, report when you have them in sight."

"North Entrance to hold. Traffic copied."

The Controller turned to one of the assistants who was trying to dismantle a position board, "Worron, go find Rieekan or the Princess. Or Solo. Tell them that Colonel Skywalker is inbound. ETA twenty minutes."

"Yes Ma'am."

"Control, _Freighter Yarkius_, stowed and ready to lift."

The Controller turned back to the job in hand, "_Yarkius_, standby. _Yarkius_ consort, Control?"

"Control, _Yarkius_ consort, ready to go."

"Roger consort. Your freighter lifting shortly, follow her out."

"Roger that, Control."

"Control this is freighter _Sperrin III_."

"_Sperrin III_, Control, hold position and standby. Break. Freighter _Yarkius_ clear to lift. Depart initially to the North, inbound T-65 holding to the east."

Luke listened to the crackle of voices over the radio as more ships called for clearance to lift or to move position. If he didn't know better he would have said that this was an evacuation. That could mean that at least some of his suspicions were founded. Leia was still in the base, he could sense her presence. Which meant that Han and Chewie were most likely still there as well... Han wouldn't evacuate without Leia, assuming, of course, that everyone leaving. Luke knew better than to interrupt the steady flow of calls and incur the wrath of the Controller by asking spurious questions... Still he was tempted to find out if Wedge or the Falcon crew were still there.

Slowing his descent, he glided in towards the base, bringing the X-wing into a hover just over three miles from the entrance. The beetle-like form of a freighter was sliding ponderously into view, accelerating upwards; followed moments later by her fighter escort. Then another freighter floated out. "Control, Sandman has traffic in sight."

"Roger, Sandman. After fighter escort; four-ship T-65; you are cleared in."

"After the escort, I'm cleared in." He yielded to temptation, asking, "Control, is Red Leader still there?"

It may have been that she didn't hear the last part if his transmission, the air was so busy he could have crossed signals with someone else, but she didn't answer the question. Instead she told him, "Sandman, be advised, General Solo will meet you on landing."

"Copied." The X-wings appeared, racing after the freighter and Luke pushed his fighter forward, heading for the entrance.

~ # # ~

Anjouk sat back in the chair, regarding the Major as he strode into the office. "Well?"

"Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles is being particularly stubborn, Sir. It may be some time before we can learn anything from him."

"Even using the woman?" Anjouk asked, baiting the trap.

"The other pilot is dead, Sir. Her injuries were too severe, she died after the first session."

Anjouk schooled his expression into mild surprise, "Really, Major Daevith? Unusual, then, that my other sources seem to believe that the only reason she died was because you killed her.... in retaliation for Antilles attacking you!"

The man visibly squirmed. Anjouk leant forward, leaning on his desk, "Your previous Commanding Officer may have accepted your lies Daevith, but I am not so gullible. You have two days. Then Antilles will be given into someone else's care. Dismissed!"

The Major saluted, turning sharply on his heel and marched out of the door. Anjouk leant back in his chair again, turning to look out at the starfield. He could, of course, order the use of the mind probe instead of letting his officers have some fun. But there was no hurry. No hurry at all. Yet.

~ # # ~

Han watched Luke's fighter settle slowly onto the ground, the technicians flooding in towards it as the engines wound down. He felt movement at his left and looked round to see Leia. He accepted, even if he couldn't truly understand, the Jedi/twin thing that bonded Luke to her and seeing the expression on her face he asked, "Does he know?"

She looked up at him, "He knows that there's something wrong, but I can't be sure of what exactly brought him here."

Luke jumped the last few rungs to the ground, talking briefly with the Chief Tech before walking across to them. Leia hugged him, Han gave him a quick grin, "What brings you to this neck of the woods, Kid?"

"Sort of had a feeling that you guys were in trouble. Again!"

Leia couldn't bring herself to join in the pretence. "We are," she told him, softly, "Deep trouble."

The laughter faded abruptly from his face and he shot a look at Han, who nodded grimly. "Wedge?" Luke asked.

"Not here," Leia warned quietly.

But Han told him, "He's been taken by the Empire."

Luke sighed, closing his eyes, the Corellian's words confirming what he already believed. Han dropped a hand, briefly, onto his shoulder, saying, "Let's get out of here to somewhere we can talk."

A harassed looking older man rushed across, stopping them. "Governor Rieekan would like to see you before he leaves, Sirs, Ma'am. General Solo you're booked out at fourteen-oh-six." He turned to Luke, "Colonel, will you be available as fighter escort for the Falcon? We're two birds down."

Luke glanced at Leia, who looked away. Two fighters? One was most probably Wedge... who was the other one? He nodded to the man, "I'll be there, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, Sir! Ma'am, your transport leaves in point four-five."

"If Governor Rieekan wants to see me I doubt I'll make that.."

"I'll take the Princess out, Lieutenant," Han offered.

"Then assign my place to someone else," Leia told the man with a smile.

"Yes, Ma'am. Thank you, Sir," he said, turning away, mind already on another problem.

As they walked towards the corridor exit, Luke said, "I need to know what happened. Before we see Rieekan."

Leia stopped, pulling Luke against the hanger wall, Han following. Softly, the Corellian began, "We went out to rendezvous with a food freighter, the Falcon and four X©wings. We made it to the second jump off point, then half way across the Crevan system all hell let loose. Something yanked us out of hyperspace... and we found ourselves running directly in towards," he dropped his voice even further, "a Death Star."

The details of the image in Luke's mind fell into place: the cell, almost the same as the one Leia had been in... "Wedge is on it?"

Han was nodding, his face unreadable, "He got caught in a tractor beam."

"What about the other one? The Lieutenant said you were two fighters down."

"A Rookie. Her T-65 was taken out as she tried to jump into hyperspace," Han told him, his voice bitter.

Luke thought for a moment, trying to remember the details of the vision. There had been someone else there, another pilot.... but what he had seen was only one of many possible futures. And yet he still had a strong impression that it was the present he had seen... He looked at Han and Leia, accepting, for the moment, what they had told him. "We've got to get Wedge out," he said, flatly.

Han laughed. Leia regarded him aghast, "Oh, Luke, be serious!"

Her brother took her hands, his eyes flashing, "I will not leave him on that thing to die!"

She jerked her hands free, glaring at him, "Don't you think that I want to get him out of there? Don't you think that I know what he's going through? I know better than anyone else here, damn it! But what you're suggesting is sheer stupidity...."

Han could hear the edge creeping back into her voice and slipped his arm round her waist, drawing her to him, interrupting, "And how the hell do you plan to get him out?"

Luke shrugged in exasperation, "I don't know.... yet."

"Luke," Leia began again, calming down a little, "I understand, I honestly do! He's your friend and you want to help him, but you have to be realistic...." She hated herself for what she was about to say, but it had to be said, "He might already be dead, Luke."

Her brother looked at her for a long moment, then said gently, "But what if he's not... Can you see? I have to try."

"A lightsabre doesn't make you invincible," she countered, softly.

"We have the advantage this time, Leia. The Jedi are on _our_ side! I have to do this, Leia. For exactly the same reasons as I had to go to Bespin..."

While they talked, Han had stood in silence, an idea slowly taking shape in the back of his mind. "Assuming," he began. Leia recognised the tone in his voice. Wide eyed, she pulled away from him as he continued, "Assuming that we could pull this rescue mission off. Say we could get in and get Antilles out... then what's to stop us leaving a little parting gift. You know, the sort that goes BOOM!" He animated the explosion with a flick of his fingers.

"You're as crazy as he is!" Leia accused, unable to miss the glint in his eyes, mirrored almost exactly in Luke's.

Han turned to her, "**We're** crazy? You're the one that called Chewie a walking carpet!" Despite herself a smile tugged at her lips. "He still hasn't forgiven you, you know," Han went on, "Keeps bringing it up every now and then."

"Don't change the subject!" She turned to her brother, "Luke, please? We only got off the Death Star before Yavin because they **let **us go!"

"Agreed," he accepted, "But those circumstances were completely different. They took us by surprise, we didn't know what we were up against. This time we know exactly!"

She didn't look convinced. "Leia," Luke tried again, not having considered before this, that they might also destroy the Death Star when they tried to get Wedge out. But if they could.... the possibilities were racing through his mind, "If we could come up with something... something involving only us, if we even have the slightest chance of destroying this Death Star, think of the lives that we could be saving."

"Boom," Han added, quirking an eyebrow at her.

Leia looked from her brother to her lover and back. Han had made a valid suggestion, a very valid suggestion she was admitting to herself. And Luke was, of course, right. With her meagre training, and his full Jedi power they might just be able to pull something off... But she also knew the two of them well enough to know that they would go rushing off without thinking through the full implications of their attempt. Camouflaging her true feelings with infuriated exasperation, knowing that Luke could sense her emotion, she said, "It doesn't matter what I think, does it? It doesn't matter what I say. If you two come up with a plan, you'll go for it anyway, won't you?"

They stood there, like two little boys who'd been caught raiding their neighbour's fruit trees. She shook her head, pushing between them, walking away from them down the corridor, already beginning to think about how they could get on board the most heavily armed station in the galaxy.

Han watched her for a moment, then began to follow, Luke dropping into step beside him. "So, Kid," he asked, quietly, glancing at the blond pilot, "how do you propose to get us onto the station?"

~ # # ~

Rieekan stood towards the back of the operations room, arms folded, answering any questions directed at him, giving advice when it was requested, signing authorisations, but otherwise staying well out of the way of his people and letting them get on with their jobs. His way of overseeing the evacuation: they had rehearsed this numerous times, they knew exactly what they were doing and the last thing they needed was for him to get in their way. And keeping out of the way meant he could see an over-all picture of what was going on.

He glanced across at the door as Leia came in, followed by Solo and Skywalker. Then turned his attention back to the departure board. Two freighters were running behind, one with loading problems, the other slight technical ones. It was building delays into subsequent departures, but all in all....

The Lieutenant in front of him swore, then asked, "How long until they get it back on-line?" She stood, one hand on her hip, the other rubbing her forehead as she listened to the reply on her headset. "Okay, standby!" Turning, she shouted, "Kamler, I need a listing of the fighters still here. And their postings! We just lost an A-wing, we'll have to shuffle the roster!"

"On its way.."

Rieekan turned as the trio approached, "Princess. Gentlemen."

"How are we doing, Governor?"

"Not bad. Things could be a lot worse...." He looked at Luke, "Most of us appear to be trying to get out of here, Colonel Skywalker, yet you've just arrived. Do you mind if I ask what, exactly, you're doing here?"

"Wedge Antilles is a close friend, Sir," Luke answered honestly. "I knew that he could be in trouble, if not now then in the near future. This is where he's based, it was easier just to come here than try to explain it long distance. Unfortunately I appear to have arrived too late..."

Rieekan nodded slowly, having forgotten how hard the Empire had openly searched for this young man, in an attempt to eradicate the last of the Jedi. Jedi heritage was something mysterious that he'd never really thought about. But now he realised that it had to be as much of a curse as it was a gift. How did you cope, he thought, to know that your friends and family could be in danger and, as in this case, be unable to help them?

"Kamler! Where's that damned schedule?"

The Lieutenant's voice broke his train of thought, turning him back to the matter at hand. "I think we should let them get on with it, don't you? Follow me." He led them across to a small partitioned office, ushering them inside before closing the door behind him. "Thank you for taking the time. I know you must have other things to do..." As if **he** didn't, Leia thought as the Governor offered, "Please, sit down." She dropped into one of the chairs beside Han. Rieekan walked round to the other side of the desk. Luke perched on the edge of a work station.

"What have you been told about the current situation, Colonel?" Rieekan asked him.

"I've explained that Wedge Antilles is being held prisoner, Governor. And that we're evacuating," Leia answered, quickly. Rieekan had, after all, asked them not to tell any-one about the Death Star. Luke wasn't just _any-one_, but she respected the Governor too much to let him think that they had undermined his orders.

"There wasn't really all that much time to talk..." Luke added instinctively.

"Then I'll fill you in, briefly, Colonel. It appears that the Empire is far stronger than we anticipated after Endor. In fact, things could hardly look worse for the Rebel Alliance. A new, military Senate has been convened.... and we have just discovered that there is a third Death Star."

Luke looked suitably shocked, having heard nothing about the forming of the Senate, "Has this information been verified?"

"The Death Star has. By General Solo."

Luke turned to Han, who said simply, "I'll fill you in on all the details later."

"But Wedge is on the Death Star?" Luke asked, covering again for Leia, knowing that it wouldn't look right if he didn't ask.

Han nodded, saying nothing.

Rieekan waited for a moment, giving the young man time to recover himself. It was difficult, at times, to remember just how young most of the people he was involved with were. Skywalker may be a Colonel, but he wasn't even in his thirties. Neither was the Princess Leia, and yet they'd seen so much. More than anyone their age should. This war was necessary, he accepted that. But it was a damnable thing!

Finally he began, "I've spoken with Mon Mothma, and as you can appreciate, she's more than a little concerned about the situation. Therefore, General Solo, you have new orders. You and your co-pilot are to go to Che'Lan, as have the other two pilots who made it back with you. Mon Mothma wants to debrief you all personally. I've had the Lieutenant out there re-organise their detail to join you."

"Will Jomanock and Gabhaan be on board the _Falcon_, or flying out?"

"They'll be your fighter support."

Han nodded, "Fine by me. Except, the Princess was gonna miss her flight out and I've arranged to take her. And the Colonel here was asked to go with me as fighter escort when he arrived..."

"That's not a problem..." Rieekan said, turning to Leia, "I can find you a place on my launch, if you wish, Your Highness. But I see no reason why you shouldn't go with General Solo."

Leia smiled, "Thank you, Governor. I'd like to speak with Mon Mothma, so I'll stay with the _Falcon_."

Rieekan nodded, then turned his attention back to Solo and Skywalker, "Leave at the time already assigned to the _Falcon_. The people out there are busy enough without throwing an unnecessary departure re-allocation at them. Also, ground ops are, as you can appreciate, engaged elsewhere at the moment, so I'm afraid you will have to work out your own routing and distribute it to Jomanock and Gabhaan. They have only been told they've been re-assigned, Colonel Skywalker. I'll leave it to you to inform them of their orders."

Luke nodded, "Sir."

"Well, General Solo, Colonel Skywalker, you have your orders. Now," Rieekan finished, rising to his feet, "if you'll excuse me, your Highness, Gentlemen, I've got an evacuation to co-ordinate..."

"Em... Governor, I was thinking..." Han began.

Rieekan fixed him with a look, "Yes?"

"...About the Death Star.. I've got sort of an idea..."

Rieekan sat back down, looking interested, "Yes?"

"Well, it's not exactly and idea, more of a...."

"The General and I were thinking," Leia interrupted, "if we come up with a workable plan for, say, a small assault force to get inside the Death Star..."

Luke managed to hide his surprise, but Han glanced at her, incredulous, then added, "Sort of a rescue mission, but with the main idea to destroy the station from the inside..."

"...and if Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles is still alive and we can get him out at the same time, then all the better..."

"Do you think Mon Mothma would go for it?"

Rieekan looked from Leia to Han as they interrupted one another, outlining their idea. Luke saw his expression and hid a smile by pretending to scratch his nose. Leia, Luke admitted, would never cease to amaze him: first she'd chewed him out for even suggesting it, now this! Rieekan sat for a moment, trying to collate what they had said. "An assault team...?"

"That's perhaps not quite the right explanation..."

"If we could work something out, Governor," Luke explained, "it could save a lot of lives. You know yourself what it's cost us the last twice the Rebel Alliance has gone up against these stations. Only a handful survived at Yavin. And we paid a high price at Endor, even although it was destroyed relatively quickly. And **that **was only because Wedge and Lando Calrissian were able to attack it from the inside. What would we have paid if the station had been complete?"

Rieekan considered for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "I agree, Colonel Skywalker, that at this time the Rebel Alliance may want for the personnel and the hardware to go up against such opposition. But I am not the one you will have to convince."

"But if you were," Han asked, "would you at least entertain the idea?"

Rieekan sighed, leaning back in his chair. "In all honesty, General, and strictly between the four of us: quote me and I will deny ever having discussed it: I would entertain any idea that I thought would wipe that thing off the face of this galaxy. Because if it lives... the Rebel Alliance is dead, the freedom of this galaxy is dead. And I can't abide the thought of my grandchildren growing up as slaves to the Empire. Now I may be wrong, but I've a pretty fair idea that Mon Mothma feels exactly the same way. Present her with a watertight option to sending hundreds more pilots to their death, and I'm sure she'll consider it."

They sat for a moment in silence. Then Rieekan pushed himself to his feet, "Now, as I said before, I have an evacuation to oversee. And by the looks of it we're having problems with another freighter." They stood as he walked across to the door. He pulled it open, then paused. "May the Force be with you!" he said, not looking at them, then disappeared into the Ops. room.

Han looked at Leia. "I thought you hated the idea, your Highnessness?"

"I do," she said, moving close to him, placing a hand on his chest, gazing up at him. "But do you really think I'm going to let the two of you rush off on your own and get yourself killed?"

Han grinned at her, "I guess we'd better come up with something, then."

~ # # ~

Luke walked through the rapidly emptying hanger areas towards where he thought he'd left his fighter, scanning the area, looking for the Deck Officer. Finally he found him beside a mini-freighter, helping to stack crates, ready to be loaded inside. "I'm looking for Pilot Gabhaan and Lieutenant Jomanock. They've been re-assigned as fighter escort for the _Millennium Falcon_."

"One minute, Sir, and I'll check." The Deck Officer rushed away, returning moments later with a hand held data pad. "They're over in section three-three.... and..." he continued before Luke could ask, "your fighter's been moved across there too, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir, we did try to notify you."

Luke thanked the man, turning, searching for the allocated area. Beyond the bustle of the remaining ships and personnel lay the bulk of the _Millennium Falcon_. And behind her he could see the open canopies of three X-wings. Section three-three. As he approached he saw two orange-clad figures helping Chewbacca to load up the Falcon.

"Got you working, then," he commented as he approached the trio. Chewbacca turned, roaring at him. Luke laughed. "Hey, don't shout at me! It's not my fault!" He looked round, "Where **is **Han?"

The Wookiee roared again, shaking his fist in the air, then stepped across to Luke, enfolding him in an embrace. Jomanock glanced at Gabhaan, grinning as the Colonel all but disappeared in fur. Luke eventually broke free, slapping the Wookiee on the chest, "It's good to see you too, Chewie." Then he turned to the pilots. "You must be Jomanock and Gabhaan? I'm Skywalker," he introduced, proffering a hand.

One of the men grasped it, "Lieutenant Jomanock, Sir."

The other, younger man, stepped forward, "Pilot Gabhaan, Sir."

Luke shook his hand, "The Princess Leia tells me that you haven't yet been issued with your new orders."

"No, Sir."

"Only that we'd been re-assigned to the _Falcon_."

Luke nodded, "We're running escort for the _Falcon_ to Che'Lan. It must be pretty obvious that you're being kept together for a reason and I'm not going to pull any punches, I'd rather tell you the way it is. Mon Mothma has asked to see both you and the _Falcon_ crew, to try and get as much first hand information as possible about the threat you encountered on your last mission."

"Mon Mothma..." Jomanock sounded slightly stunned. Gabhaan said nothing, but his face had gone very pale. Luke smiled, trying to reassure them.

"I know it sounds like a big deal, but believe me, she just wants to get an accurate profile from the people that were there, rather than third hand by report. So tell it as you saw it. If you don't know, or you can't remember, don't worry. Okay?"

Both pilots nodded, "Then go get your Artoo units and get them into the _Falcon_. General Solo will down load the navigation data from the mainframe here. The ground guys have their hands full at the moment."

"Yes, Sir."

"Sir.."

They turned away towards the fighters, calling for their respective droids. Luke stepped over towards Chewbacca, "How they doing?" The Wookiee nodded his head, growling an answer. Luke smiled, slapping him affectionately on the arm, then disappeared into the _Falcon_.

~ # # ~

Groggily, awareness returned. Lying still, keeping his breath even, he hoped that he hadn't betrayed the fact that he was awake; knowing that they'd be back the moment they realised. And as long as he lay still he didn't hurt too much. And the burn only threatened.

Standard Imperial interrogation practice - slow burn from a blaster. Somehow he'd thought that they'd have had something more sophisticated on a Death Star... all the horror stories he'd heard about pain droids... Still, he'd surprised himself at how much he'd actually taken before he started screaming.

The door opened, three sets of footsteps thudding down the stairs. He hadn't fooled them after all. Fear welled up into his throat clogging his ability to breath. As they dragged him to his feet and the torn muscles and bruised ribs protested in a wave of agony. He tried to think of Luke, JhavraH, anyone: but it was difficult, so difficult.... Then the sweet, lovely image of Karrik, the woman who had so briefly graced his life before Hoth, pressed into his thoughts. And he found a small well of renewed strength.

He was being pushed against the wall, the restraints locking in. Someone tugged at his other sleeve.

"Let's try again shall we, Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles. We were talking about Yavin. You were going to tell me how the space station was destroyed."

Wedge said simply, "Lieutenant-Colonel Wedge Antilles, Rebel Alliance Forces."

Daevith sighed, shaking his head, "Do we have to go through all this again, Lieutenant-Colonel? It's such a waste of time, and energy on your part. It's quite simple, really. Tell us what we want to know and I won't be forced to make your life so painful."

The Rebel remained silent for a moment, then repeated, "Lieutenant-Colonel Wedge Antilles, Rebel Alliance Forces."

Daevith was beginning to lose his patience with the man. "Is the question too difficult, Lieutenant-Colonel? Should we perhaps start with an easier one? Like the details of the mission you were on... or the location of your home base?"

Antilles lifted his head, looking at Daevith for a moment. Daevith stepped forward. The Rebel smiled, "Lieutenant-Colonel Wedge..."

The Major backhanded him across the face, slamming the back of his head off the wall. "Very well, Lieutenant-Colonel. We'll try it your way. Again."


	3. Day 3

**Day 3**

Leia walked down the ramp of the Falcon. A Commander rushed across to her. "Your Highness, Mon Mothma sends her apologies for not being here to greet you personally and asks if you and Colonel Skywalker would mind waiting in guest quarters for the moment?"

Leia smiled, trying to put the man at ease, glad that she was going to be alone with Luke for a while. There was something she needed to discuss with him... an idea that she wanted to bounce off him without Han going **completely** off the deep end. "Of course," she told the Commander, explaining, "I can understand how busy she must be."

"Thank you, Your Highness. I'll have someone take you there." Han and Chewbacca were walking down the ramp behind her. The officer had already turned his attention to them, "General Solo, Mon Mothma would like to speak with you and your First Officer as soon as possible. With your permission, I'll take you and the other pilots straight there."

"That's fine by me," Han said, glancing at Chewie who growled in confirmation, "but..." As if on cue the trio appeared from the other side of the Falcon. "You guys ready to see Mon Mothma now?" Han asked.

Jomanock nodded, "Yes, Sir."

Han looked at Gabhaan, who bobbed his head, "Yes, Sir."

"Then if you'll follow me, General, Gentlemen." He turned to Leia and Luke, "Your Highness, Colonel, Lieutenant Darklighter will show you to your quarters." With that he turned, leading the way across the hanger floor. Han paused briefly, kissing Leia's cheek. "See you later," he said, pulling a face at her and Luke before heading after the Commander. Chewbacca, Jomanock and Gabhaan fell in behind.

Leia put her arm through Luke's as the Lieutenant guided them across the hanger, noticing that his face had clouded over, his eyes melancholy. "What?" she asked him, softly.

He gave her a sad smile, "Nothing... just... Darklighter. I was thinking about Biggs.."

She squeezed his arm in understanding, and for a moment they walked in silence. Then, as they left the hanger, following the Lieutenant along one of the corridors she told him, quietly, "I've had an idea."

~ # # ~

The wall unit chimed, warning Lando that there was an incoming message. He sighed, sitting back in his chair, rubbing his hands across his eyes. "Yeah?" A hologram flickered into life on the desk in front of him. He smiled, pleasantly surprised, "Your Highness, what can I do for you?"

"Can you switch to channel one from there?" the diminutive image of Leia asked.

"Just a minute," he told her, leaning across to the unit on his desk, punching in a serial number. The hologram flickered, losing consistency for a moment as the scrambler kicked in, before returning to full strength. "You can talk freely now, Your Highness."

Leia gave him a quick smile, coming straight to the point, "Would you be willing to volunteer for a mission without knowing the full details? If, for example, all I could tell you, at the moment, is that it's highly dangerous, but extremely important."

Lando rubbed his chin, considering for a moment. "Does it get me out of this office?" he quipped.

The Princess fixed him with one of her stern looks, "I'm being serious, Lando." Then she sighed, "I know it sounds melodramatic, but the continued existence of the Rebel Alliance could hang on it's success."

Calrissian gave a low whistle, quirking an eyebrow, "**That** important....." He leant forward, something occurring to him. "Leia," he asked, "does this have anything to do with the rumours we've been hearing about another Death Star?"

Leia took a breath, saying nothing, dismayed that the gossip had spread so far, so quickly. But her silence gave him all the answers he needed. Without hesitating he said, "When do I leave?"

Feeling some of the tension washing out of her, knowing that the hardest part: convincing Han: was yet to come, she told him, "I'll contact you again in a few hours, once we've worked out the finer detail. Until then I need you to find someone of the same build, height and colouring as Luke. They'll be in no danger... once the first part of the plan is complete they'll be returning to their duties."

"I'll see what I can do," he told her, already running through some possibilities in his mind.

"We'll also need to fit out someone to double as the bounty hunter, Bouush."

Leia saw the surprise on his face, but ignored it, continuing, "Again, once the first part of the plan's done, they'll return to their duties. I'll get a drawing of Bouush to you as soon as I can. And we'll need to find a ship, unregistered if possible... one that has similar storage facilities as the _Falcon_."

Lando frowned, wondering just what in all the hells Leia was planning. Whatever it was, Bouush implied that she was going to be personally involved. Curiosity biting at him but knowing better than to press for details now, he simply nodded, "I'll get on to it straight away. The ship, how extensive does the storage space need to be... or can you tell me what you need to hide?"

"Two, perhaps three, human males."

"That shouldn't be too much of a problem,. In fact, I may be able to get my hands on one almost straight away..."

Leia smiled at him again, "Thank you, Lando. One last thing, is there anyone in the Vhargan or Shuelar systems that you know? Someone you might possibly contact if you were looking for information or something, bearing in mind that you're now working for the Rebel Alliance?"

"The Vhargan or Shuelar systems...." He thought for a moment. "I may still have some... business," he said, choosing his words carefully, ".. left to finish in Demerin. That's on Ffonsim."

"How dangerous would this.. business.. make it for say you and Luke there?"

Lando shrugged, "With enough money we could stay as long as we wanted without too much hassle."

"I see," Leia said, as if deep in thought. "Thank you again, Lando. I'll be in touch."

The hologram disappeared and he rose, heading for the door. First the ship, then he'd start thinking about the rest.

~ # # ~

Han sauntered into the guest suite, dropping into an easy chair across from Luke and Leia, propping his feet up on the glass table. "I think it's safe to say that Mon Mothma is **not** a happy lady."

"How was she?" Leia asked, concerned about one of Bail Organa's oldest and closest friends, a woman that she'd known since early childhood.

"Quiet," he told her, "... very quiet. She basically let the four of us ramble on. Then Jomanock handed over the data from his fighter and she asked if we'd go back to see her once she'd had it analysed." He shook his head, then seemed to brighten, "So, what have you guys been up to?"

"We think we may have come up with something to get us on to the Death Star," Luke began tentatively. Han dropped his feet onto the floor, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. Leia glanced across at Luke, then back at Han. "What?" the Corellian asked.

"It's risky, but it might just work...."

"What?" Han demanded. Leia took a deep breath.

~ # # ~

Pain dragged Wedge slowly back to fevered consciousness. The overpowering ache behind his temples dulled the stinging fire in his arms. Too sick and exhausted to move into a more comfortable position, dreading the protest from his body, he lay still, the floor icy against his face and chest.

Drifting in and out of restless, threatening darkness, he waited. Time had ceased to exist. He had no idea how long he had been here: a week, a few days.... hours... Fear swamped him, the thought that all this had taken place in just a few hours dragging away hope. A small voice at the back of his mind warned him that he wouldn't last another session. Still another warned him that if he broke, he was betraying everyone. Goddess, please, just let him pass out before he talked: buy just a little more time...

Just a little more time to get some strength back, to let him fight. But if he told them something.... something not really all that important, that would give him time as well, wouldn't it. The pain would stop for a while....

The door slid open. _No, please no, not yet. Please not yet_...

Hands lifted him, ignoring the feeble struggle he attempted. The wall was frigid against his back and he began to shiver again. The restraints clamped into place. The band round his neck bit into his windpipe, making it difficult to breath. He tried to open his eyes, but the light dazzled him, making him want to throw up. He closed them again, but the nausea remained.

"How was the Space Station at Yavin destroyed, Lieutenant-Colonel?"

"Lieutenant-Colonel... Wedge... Antilles...."

"What is the location of your home base?"

"..... Rebel All.... Alliances Forces...."

"Give me the details of the mission you were on when you were captured?"

Silence, this time.

"What is the strength of armourment and personnel at your home base?"

Silence. Then, "Lieutenant... Colonel... We... Wedge Antilles...."

Daevith bit down his anger, aware that he only had a few hours left before Moff Anjouk pulled the matter out of his hands, handing over the Rebel to someone else. "LieutenantColonel," he snapped, "I grow weary of your continued mockery! You're not impressing anyone! All that you're achieving is making your own life extremely difficult! Tell me what I want to know! Tell me how the Death Star was destroyed at Yavin!"

Antilles said nothing. For a moment Daevith thought that the man had passed out. He walked across, lifting the LieutenantColonel's chin in one hand, brushing the fingers of his other hand across one of the burns. The Rebel moaned, pulling his head out of Daevith's grip. The Major nodded to Fremen who flipped the clip on his blaster pulling it free of it's holster.

"How was the Station at Yavin destroyed, Lieutenant-Colonel?"

Wedge heard the low whine of the blaster, felt his shirt being ripped open, felt the gentle caress of heat against his chest. He flinched, only succeeding in tightening the bands round his wrists. The heat began to build.

"What is the location of your home base? Tell me, Lieutenant-Colonel and the pain will stop.... It's quite easy! How was the station at Yavin destroyed?"

"Lieutenant...." he began.

"That's not what I want to hear, Lieutenant-Colonel! Tell me what I want to

know! How was the station destroyed at Yavin?"

"No-o...."

The pain was growing unbearable, Daevith's voice hammering against him, "What is the location of your home base? The location, Lieutenant-Colonel, give me the location and this will stop! Give me the details of the mission you were on when you were captured! What is the strength of personnel and armourment at your home base? The figures, Lieutenant-Colonel. Tell me and this will stop!"

A scream clawed its way up into Wedge's throat, choking any reply. The Major's voice hammered at him again, "Tell me, Lieutenant-Colonel, and this will stop!"

Self preservation shrieked at him: **all that mattered was that the pain stopped**. _Tell them something, anything! Doesn't have to be much, just tell them_! The scream erupted from his throat.

And then he heard himself blurting out, "MILK RUN..."

_No, please no_! What had he done.... He couldn't! But they'd promised, they'd said... So why was the heat still burning! He'd betrayed himself and the heat was still burning!

Daevith stepped up to him. "What?" he asked softly.

"MILK RUN!" Wedge screamed again. Now that he'd started, he found it was too difficult to stop... easier just to go along... But his throat closed up, leaving him choking for breath.

Daevith motioned for Fremen to remove the blaster and crossed to the door, picking up a container of water. He moved back to Antilles, opening it, supporting the Lieutenant-Colonel's head as he placed the carton against his lips. The man was fevered. Shaking and shivering so much that it was difficult for him to drink: obviously more seriously injured than Daevith had realised.... Perhaps the beating he'd taken that first day...

Now that he had finally managed to get Antilles to talk, Daevith considered the possibility that he had taken this just a little too far, been a little too overzealous. The wounds on Antilles arms, now that he looked more closely, did look infected. And Anjouk would not be best pleased if this Rebel died.

Wedge sipped greedily at the liquid, feeling it ease his throat. Finally it was taken away. "What is "milk run", Lieutenant-Colonel?"

"Training mission.."

Daevith frowned, "You were on a training mission?"

"Rendezvous.... supply ship."

Slightly confused by Antilles' answers, the Major tried to clarify, "The rendezvous doubled as a training mission?"

"Yes." The Rebel lifted his eyes, fastening his gaze on Daevith's, saying with difficulty, "The girl.... you killed....JhavraH.... was.... sixtee...." The word strangled into a sudden moan of pain, his body collapsing a little further onto the restraints.

"Take him down!" Daevith ordered. Fremen slapped at a panel, the binders retracting into the wall. Daevith and Nawe caught Antilles as he crumpled, lowering him, almost gently, to the floor.

He was still conscious, barely. "Why was the _Millennium Falcon_ involved?"

"Only.. ship available...." His voice was weak, no more than a whisper. Daevith fed him a little more water.

"What were you picking up?"

"Food.... replacement parts..."

"Munitions?"

"No..."

"Where were you to rendezvous?"

Wedge shook his head slightly, refusing to answer. No, no more. He had given them enough, given them too much.... any more and it would destroy him. Please, just let the darkness take him..... why wouldn't it take him, let him sleep for a little while...

"Where were you to rendezvous with the supply ship, Lieutenant-Colonel?"

The Rebel shook his head again. "No..." he breathed.

Daevith was astounded. He had thought the hardest part was over, that he had finally broken this man. Now he realised that Antilles had merely been playing with him! And in a strange sort of way he found a growing admiration for the Rebel... Three days of punishment he had taken, and still he resisted! But the trickle of information he had given would hopefully secure him for Daevith. Surely Anjouk wouldn't hand him over to someone else now? No, this man was his, had to be his! He, and only he, would have the credit for breaking him. Sighing in consternation, he demanded, "For the last time, Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles, and then we shall have to resume the persuasion, where were you to rendezvous with the supply ship?"

Fear surged. It was going to start again. Self preservation screamed at him anew, tell them. Just tell them... No, he tried to convince himself, wait. Wait until it starts, then tell them. Stall for just a little longer, just a little more time.

"Very well, Lieutenant©Colonel. We'll play it your way, once again." The officers grabbed him under the arms, hauling him to his feet.

Wedge tried to breath, the kaleidoscope of light beginning to whirr inside his head again. He felt as if he had an iron band wound round his head, growing tighter and tighter, making him dizzy and sick. He hadn't the energy, had little in his belly to throw up, but his body still tried.

Major Daevith watched the convulsions in dismay, snapping orders at the men. They dragged Antilles to the cot, laying him down on his side. "Fremen, get a medical droid! You," Daevith barked, turning to Nawe, "stay with him until the droid's finished, then report to me. I must relate our success to the Grand Moff."

Turning, he marched out of the cell.

~ # # ~

Han skimmed over the details yet again, not happy at the thought of being left behind, "Why Lando? Why not me?"

"Because Lando isn't just as big a prize as you, and both you and Luke being offered up together might make them suspicious... see it as too much of a good thing. Because you and Luke would most probably turn up in the Falcon, and we don't have time to get the Falcon to Demerin. Because its easier finding only one double, rather than two. Because Lando's known in Demerin... do you really want me to go on?" Leia finished, gently, knowing how desperately Han wanted to be in on this.

"So, why Demerin?" he tried.

Leia suppressed a sigh. "The Vhargan system," she began to explain, pressing a pad on the console inset to the table, a hologram of several star systems springing into three dimensional clarity, "is here, close enough to the core of Imperial held space for them to be reasonably interested in what goes on. News of two Rebels disappearing is going to arrive with the right people quickly, especially if we spread rumours about them being taken by Bouush. And it's the sort of place that the Imperial intelligence will believe Rebels could be lurking, making a kidnapping story even more viable. **More** importantly though, it's close enough to the Amber Fleet for Lando to get there quickly. He knows people there. He has, quote "unfinished business there" unquote."

"What if the Imperials don't buy Bouush as the bounty hunter? They could have heard about what happened at Jabba's palace," Han worried.

"No-one else was there when Bouush tried to jump Wedge and I," Luke told him. "No-one knows that the real Bouush is dead, that's why we used him at Tatooine. And even if they do know about the palace, it gives Leia something else to back up the story, because the **real **Bouush won't be happy at some-one impersonating him like that."

"Yet another reason for me... Bouush," she corrected, "to be after Skywalker. Makes it more personal."

"I don't know..."

Chewbacca spoke softly. The trio of humans looked at him, a slow grin spreading itself across Luke's face. "Great idea, Chewie! I mean, who's going to argue with a bounty hunter who has a Wookiee as a body guard?"

Leia shook her head, "Chewbacca, thanks for the offer, but someone might recognise you..."

The Wookiee cut her off, braying quietly. Han looked at him aghast, "Black and silver?"

Luke leant forward, "Chewie, you'd really dye your fur for this?" Chewbacca nodded, slowly.

"Well, I'd sure feel a lot happier if the Big Guy went along for the ride!" Han told them, both he and Luke looking at Leia.

To the Corellian's great relief, she smiled, "**I **think you'll look wonderful in black."

Luke stood up, "Then, I suggest that we try to see Mothma now. The longer we wait..." He trailed off, not wanting to voice his fears, pushing away the image of Wedge on the floor of the cell.

Leia was already on her feet, "I'll talk with her. Wait here."

~ # # ~

Daevith waited anxiously outside the Grand Moff's office running the details through in his head yet again, sorting through the story. Finally the door slid open, Anjouk's voice inviting, "Come in, Major." Daevith walked into the room, hesitating only momentarily as he saw the rest of the station's Ranking staff arranged round the circular table. Anjouk was explaining, "Major Daevith has been interrogating our Rebel friend." He turned to Daevith, "So, Major, what news of Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles?"

"He has finally started to be reasonable, Sir. I obtained the first information minutes ago and came straight here to inform you."

Anjouk smiled, "Then inform us, Major."

"It appears, Sir, that Antilles and the _Millenium Falcon_ were on a routine pick up detail that, in this case, doubled as a training mission. Their orders were perfectly simple: rendezvous with a supply ship carrying food and replacement parts, then return to the base. The _Millennium Falcon_ was there essentially because she was the only freighter free for duty at that time."

"What ship was supplying them?" Admiral Yommo asked.

"I don't have that information at this time, Admiral, nor do I have the location of the Rebel Base. Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles collapsed before I could press him further. I left him with a medical droid. Once he has had sufficient time to recover I will begin questioning him again."

"I want the name of that ship, Major!" Anjouk told him. "It must be made an example of!"

"Yes, Sir."

"And don't waste your time on the location of his home base. That will have been evacuated by now. Concentrate on getting the details of the destruction of the station at Yavin. The Rebels know about this station, they will attempt to destroy it. We still have time, Major, our listening posts have picked up no dramatic increase in Rebel movement. But you have had three days and I want that information as quickly as you can get it. Then we can formulate a plan of action to ensure that when they do attack, they will be defenceless"

"You will have the details, Sir." Daevith assured him. Then asked, "If I may be allowed to...?"

Anjouk waved his hand, "Go, Major. You are dismissed."

~ # # ~

Mothma had readily agreed to hear them and now listened in silence as Leia and Luke outlined the mission plan verbally. Then sat in silence, reading over the outline. Finally she sat back, setting it down, "It's certainly simple enough in its lay out, and I learnt many years ago, that the simplest plans have the best chance of working... however..." She looked pointedly at Luke, the sincerity in her voice robbing the words of any unintended insult, "This plan relies very heavily on you, Colonel. Please believe me, I imply no slander on your abilities, but it is a major consideration, if this is to succeed."

"I realise that, Ma'am."

She nodded. "But would you agree, Colonel, that if **you** were somehow incapacitated, the chances of the mission being successfully completed are... minimal."

Luke took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, "Yes, Ma'am."

She nodded, hearing the resignation in his voice, knowing that if Leia had had anything to do with this plan then they would probably have gone over every single scenario a dozen times. She attempted a smile, "I can see that a possibility you have considered, Colonel. I apologise if I am re-treading ground already beaten to dust."

"We all understand that you have to be sure," Leia told her, softly.

Mothma looked at her, then at Luke and Han, "But can you understand that, in all conscience, I cannot sanction this..."

Leia tried desperately to hide her frustration. It had been a possibility, it had always been a possibility, she told herself. But now that she heard Mothma saying the words, the kindness she also heard infuriated her. And she hated herself for being angry at this woman...

But Mothma was continuing, "... at least, not as it now stands."

Leia's hopes rose again.

"If things were to go wrong, then worst case scenario, I would be handing three of my higher ranking personnel to the Empire, on a platter. The damage that would do to the Rebel Alliance is unimaginable." She hesitated for a moment before continuing, "We have already, potentially, been compromised with the loss of Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles..." She trailed off her expression melancholy, then seemed to brighten, "However," she told them, standing up and walking round her desk to them, "please give me time to consider all the possibilities." She turned to Leia, "You said that you have already begun the initial groundwork?"

"Yes... I..."

"Then, for the moment, continue with it. I assure you, that if there is any way, any way at all, that I can satisfy my misgivings, then I will give this outline serious consideration." Leia reached out, placing a hand on her arm. Mothma looked at her giving her a sad, haunted smile, placing her hand over Leia's, "I greatly fear, your Highness, that these are the most desperate circumstances we will ever face."

Leia tightened her grip, saying nothing, knowing that there was nothing she could possibly say. The full weight of the Rebellion rested on the shoulders of this gently spoken, fiercely protective woman who had mourned every death at Yavin, every death on Hoth, Bramha, Delft, Endor.... They had all known that the killing wasn't going to stop with Endor, but they had at least hoped it was almost over. Yet now she was faced with another, seemingly insurmountable issue, that threatened, once again, to destroy hundreds of lives.

Mothma released her grip on Leia, pulling gently away. "Please, gentlemen, Your Highness, go, let me think on this."

Luke and Han saluted, turning towards the door. Leia kissed Mothma lightly on the cheek, then followed. Mothma waited until the door closed, then turned back towards her desk, mind already running, once again, over the plan they had concocted.

Daevith leant casually against the wall of the cell, watching the medi-unit work with Antilles. The Rebel officer was still unconscious, his breathing shallow and ragged, fever pulling faint, mumbled incoherency from his lips. The droid had spread Bacta gel over the burns on his inner forearms and now began to apply it to the seared flesh below his collarbone. Antilles made a small sound, breath catching in his throat as the thick fluid touched the raw wound. Finished, the unit produced a hypodermic, sliding the needle into Antilles' arm above the burn, squeezing a colourless liquid into the vein. The irregular breathing eased infinitesimally. Discarding the empty hypodermic, it retrieved a rehydration patch, pressing it firmly against the Lieutenant-Colonel's neck before picking up another device, pushing it down onto the Rebel's chest, directly above his heart. After a moment it lifted the device away.

Duties finally complete, it turned. "Well?" Daevith demanded.

"The subject's fluid and glucose levels are extremely low. A rehydration pack has been applied to counteract this. The condition has also resulted in the weakening of his heart, for which adrenalin has been administered. There has been some internal bruising which will require time to settle. The wounds have become infected, causing fever. Antibiotics and painkillers have been administered."

Daevith frowned, "When will he be ready for questioning."

"The subject's condition will have improved significantly within eight hours. Interrogation before that time would be unwise."

The Major swore silently, pushing himself off the wall. Eight hours. Eight damned hours! Still, it would be unthinkable if Antilles died before he had detailed how the station had been destroyed at Yavin. Failure to retrieve that information would most certainly be disciplined... He walked across to the Rebel's unconscious form as the droid hobbled its way out of the cell, looking down at the flushed, fevered face. "Eight hours, Lieutenant-Colonel," he warned the Rebel softly, "you have eight hours. And then I intend to break you and bleed you dry! You will not play me for the fool again! Anjouk **will** have that information."


	4. Day 4

Day 4

Rieekan and Madine were with Mon Mothma as Han and Chewbacca followed Luke and Leia into Mothma's office. Mon Mothma turned, greeting them with a smile, the two men acknowledging them with slight nods of their heads. "Please, Gentlemen, Your Highness, sit down. We have some details we wish to go over with you, concerning your mission outline."

Luke shot a glance at Leia as he sat down. Leia shrugged slightly.

"Mon Mothma tells me that you have already laid some of the ground work, Your Highness," Madine began, "How far have those preparations gone?"

"Completed and ready to go. The ship has been converted and is already in Demerin. The stand-ins have both been chosen and kited out. General Calrissian is waiting for the final briefing."

Madine nodded as Rieekan asked, "The elapse time for the different segments of the task, Colonel Skywalker, how were they arrived at?"

"Calculated from the time that it took Ben Kenobi to reach the controls for the tractor beam on the first Death Star and return to the landing area," Luke told him. "As you can see from the plans, the distance from the hanger where the Falcon was secured," he continued, indicating the hard copy printouts sitting on the desk on front of both Madine and Rieekan, "to the tractor controls is roughly two thirds of the distance from the controls to the central reactor. The Endor Death Star had no really significant differences from the one at Yavin, therefore we've assumed that the Crevan station will also have virtually the same layout. The estimated elapse time of the first part of the operation we calculated using the hanger furthest from the controls, then added a percentage for error. Using **that** figure to average out the timings for the second and third segments, gives us approximately three hours. On top of which we'll have to add some for doing the initial dealing, and then whatever it takes to talk to them inside. **That**, obviously, we have no way of knowing."

Rieekan looked at Madine, who shrugged, then at Mothma, "We can come to some agreement about total elapse time..." He turned back to Luke, "Would four hours be acceptable?"

Luke turned to Leia, looking across at Chewbacca, then back at the Princess. The Wookiee whuffed a comment. Leia nodded, "That would be fine, Sir."

Rieekan sat back in his chair. Mothma looked at him. He lifted his hand as if in acceptance, then crossed his arms over his chest. Madine gave her one, simple nod of agreement. Mon Mothma clasped her hands on the table, leaning forward. "The mission plan," she told the quartet sitting on the other side of the table, "as laid down by yourselves, has been accepted: with one proviso."

Leia relaxed, finally, feeling the tension of before rapidly being replaced by excitement shaded apprehension. She glanced sidelong at Luke who gave her a quick grin, then turned his attention back to Mothma, who continued, "The worst case scenario was, as I said before, unacceptable. Therefore, in addition to the Infiltration Task, a second Task will be put on standby, nominally to cover your retreat, but also to destroy the Death Star should the Infiltration fail."

Han suddenly came to life, sitting forward, "Who's in command of the second Task?"

"Are you volunteering, General?" Mothma asked.

"The _Millennium Falcon_ **and** her captain are at your disposal, Ma'am!"

"Thank you, General Solo," she accepted quietly, having had an idea, right from the beginning, that he would offer his services. She sat back, handing the rest of the briefing over, "Governor Rieekan?"

"The proviso runs like this: You shall have the agreed four hours to get inside the Death Star and complete your part of the mission. At the end of that time, or sooner if you notify us that things have gone wrong, General Solo will lead a fleet against the Death Star. If everything has run to plan then the fleet will be there to cover your escape. If not then they will exploit the same weakness utilised at Yavin."

"The plans of the Death Star at Endor," Madine took over, "as you pointed out, Colonel, were almost identical to the one at Yavin. Most importantly there were no details of increased defenses around the targeted exhaust port. We have assumed that, as this station must have been built concurrently with the one destroyed at Yavin, their defenses will be similarly lax...."

"Comprehensive layouts of deck planning are one thing, General Solo," Mothma broke in, quietly, "but the lack of increased defenses around this susceptible area have given us..." She paused, searching for the phrase, finishing finally, "cause for concern. Admittedly, we have made a considerable assumption that the Imperial fleet have no idea how the Yavin station was destroyed.... but should the Colonel and the Princess' plan fail, it is the only hope we have of obliterating this new threat. With the information that Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles can supply, the new Empire has it within its power to cripple the Rebel Alliance, decimating a great many worlds in the process. We have no choice but to act quickly lest we lose the advantage."

"I understand, Ma'am."

"Then, General Solo, if you remain behind we will brief you on your orders." She turned to Leia, "Your Highness, contact General Calrissian and brief him. He must be ready to go as soon as possible. Please inform me when he leaves for Demerin."

The Princess nodded, "I will."

Mothma regarded all of them, "The plan has already been initiated. As we speak, as many fighters and bombers as we feel will arrive in time are enroute to rendezvous at a central location where Governor Madine will give them their initial briefing. All that is left is for me to wish you success in this endeavour. Gentlemen, Princess, I pray that the Force be will be with you. Dismissed."

~ # # ~

Han walked into another mess room, scanning the sea of faces. At last! And, as usual, the very last place he'd tried. Shaking his head in disgust he strode past the tables, carefully side-stepping as a ground tech turned away from the man he'd been chatting to, almost covering Han with the hot liquid in his cup.

"Sorry, Sir..."

Han smiled, waving him away, continuing towards the two pilots he'd been searching for, for the last hour. Jomanock looked up as Han reached the table, pulling out a chair and sitting beside Gabhaan. The General leant forward, elbows on the table. Looking first at Gabhaan, then Jomanock, he asked softly, low enough that no-one else would hear, "How do you guys feel about going up against the Death Star again?"

Jomanock glanced at Gabhaan, who licked his lips nervously. "Exactly what do you mean, Sir?" the Lieutenant asked, keeping his voice low.

"I've got orders to take just about every fighter and bomber we've got against that thing. But first I'm going to do a little business and I need a fighter escort for the Falcon. I just wondered if you guys were interested."

"Count me in, Sir," the Lieutenant told Solo, his mouth drawn into a tight line. Gabhaan could feel the blood draining from his face and had to put down the cup he was holding, not wanting the others to see how badly his hands were shaking, remembering the fireball that erupted from JavraH's fighter. But he still found himself saying, "I'm up for it too, Sir."

Han grinned, "Thought you might say that. That's why I had your orders held back!" He pulled two small packages from his jacket pocket, handing them to their respective owners. Then he stood up, telling them softly, "Field commissions. Be in the hanger by oh-six hundred. Lieutenant," he acknowledged Gabhaan, then to Jomanock, "Commander."

Jomanock stared after him, open mouthed, as the General turned away, winding his way back through the tables. Gabhaan had already broken the package open, swearing softly, holding his orders in one hand, clutching the Lieutenant's insignia in the other. Jomanock looked at him and grinned, breaking open his own container. He pulled out the orders, then tipped the Commander's insignia onto his palm.

"Sir?" Jomanock looked up at Gabhaan. "Sir," the younger man admitted, "I'm..." But he found that he couldn't quite say the words.

"Scared?" Jomanock asked. Gabhaan nodded. "Hells," Jomanock told him, "I'm terrified!" He grinned again, leaning forward, "But if my name's written in the stars for the next battle then I'm damned sure that I'm going to take some of those Imperials with me!" The grin faded abruptly, his eyes clouding over as he looked back down at the rank pins in his hand: thoughts of the man he'd left behind, never far from his mind, crashing back in. Guilt stabbed at him again, conscience turning the pleasure sour, "I owe that much to the Lieutenant-Colonel."


	5. Day 5

**Day 5**

Something was different. As Wedge surfaced slowly, his subconscious warned him that something was different. Awareness finally returned, and with it realisation... the pain had all but gone. He lay still, not chancing his luck, the numb ache from his muscles warning him that if he moved the misery would return. But for the moment it was gone: the fiery agony that had eaten at his arms and chest had dulled to a nagging sting; his head no longer felt as if someone were trying to crush it.

For a moment he lay perfectly still, relishing the sensation.... then fear slammed at him, his stomach turning leaden. The intricate memory of the agony crashed in on him, too fresh in his mind for him to ignore it. Goddess, but he couldn't go through that all again! Please, he couldn't... A small voice of conscience insisted, coldly, that he would have to. And after the fear and the conscience, washed the guilt. He had broken.... he had given them information.... Nothing important, really, honestly. Not when you looked at it in the cold light of day! But the truth remained, sitting heavily on him... he had broken.

But it had bought him more time, hadn't it? They'd obviously given him some sort of medical attention.... Sure, he thought despondently, so they can beat up on you again without you passing out. If only he could stop being so damned scared... this waiting terrified him more than the thought of the torture. The longer he was left the more terrible the memories of what he'd been through, grew: sapping at his strength, slowly eating away at his soul.

The door finally opened. Fear surged. Then the serenity that he'd experienced before trickled in, calming the panic, boosting his courage enough to endure the terror. It can't be any worse than its already been...

Carefully he sat up, swinging his legs onto the floor. As expected his back protested, but once he was upright the objection subsided. He glanced at his arms, seeing the remnants of a blue/green gel and beneath that a freshly regenerated layer of fragile skin. Then he lifted his head, looking at the officers who walked into the cell, fixing his gaze on the Major. A droid wobbled down the stairs behind them, moving across to him. Wedge sat perfectly still as the unit pressed a sensor against his neck.

Daevith watched the Rebel. There was defiance in his eyes again, as well as fear. It was written across his face, in his posture. Mentally, the Major shook his head, respect for the man's courage vying with annoyance at his temerity. You **will** talk, Lieutenant-Colonel, he promised silently. You **will **tell me everything that I want to know....

The droid turned. "Well?" Daevith demanded.

"The subject's health has improved sufficiently."

Daevith allowed himself a small, tight smile. He moved forward as the droid tottered up the stairs, Fremen and Nawe positioning themselves either side of the steps until called upon. Insolently, the Rebel pushed himself to his feet. "Are we in a mood to be more agreeable, Lieutenant-Colonel?" Daevith asked him, "Or do we have to apply persuasion, yet again?"

Wedge said nothing, not moving as the Major reached out, taking hold of one of his wrists, roughly pulling his arm, twisting it to inspect the burn. It can't get any worse than it's already been, Wedge repeated silently to himself... but despite his resolve the terror was beginning to build.

The Major dropped the wrist, grasping the other one, "Almost healed, I see. It would be such a shame if we had to undo the work that the medi-droid has, so successfully, done, don't you think, Colonel?" He let the wrist go.

"Lieutenant©Colonel," the Rebel corrected, gazing back at him, his expression unreadable.

They faced each other down for a moment longer, then Daevith said, "You have already told us about your mission. And as we are both aware, your home base will have been evacuated by now, so there is no longer any point in asking you about that...."

With an effort Wedge managed to keep the relief from showing on his face. He'd done it! He'd stalled them long enough! It didn't matter what happened now, he'd given the base enough time to evacuate. The knowledge gave him a renewed strength.

"All that really remains, therefore, is the attack on the Death Star at Yavin. And, of course, the supply ship you were meeting." Daevith turned away. Fremen and Nawe took a sudden step towards him. For a brief instant he wondered why, turning back towards Antilles: receiving the full force of the Lieutenant-Colonel's fist on his jaw. He stumbled backwards, hand flying to his face as the other two leapt for the Rebel.

Tasting the bitter, metallic, tang of blood in his mouth, he took his hand away. Smudges of red pooled in his fingers. He could feel his jaw and lip already beginning to swell. He turned back to Antilles, who struggled valiantly, if in vain, against the grip of Fremen and Nawe. "That, Lieutenant-Colonel," he told the Rebel, his voice tight with anger, eyes flashing venom, "was an incredibly stupid thing to do!"

The lingering spark of defiance pulled a grin across Wedge's lips. Then he doubled over gasping for breath as the Major's fist slammed into his stomach. The two officers dragged him upright, holding him immobile as Daevith punched him again.

~ # # ~

The two men pushed their way through the throng to the bar. The tinny overtures of the band, cramped into one corner of the room, sailed over the melee of chatter and laughter: mingling with the odour of stale sweat, beer and smoke. Lando turned his back to the bar, leaning against the rough wood, searching the crowd. The smaller, blond man dug into a pocket, pulling out some credits, waving them in the direction of the bar tender.

Lando Calrissian turned back as the being behind the bar finally thumped down two glasses of dark, amber liquid. The fluid slopped over the edge, running down the outside of the glasses. Vrad handed over the credits, picking up his beer, taking a mouthful. Swallowing, he pulled a face, glancing at Lando. Calrissian grinned, picking up his own glass, draining half of it, then wordlessly moved into the crowd again, Vrad following.

A group of spacers stood up, leaving a booth empty and the two men slid into it. "What now?" Vrad asked.

Lando shrugged, taking another mouthful of beer, "We wait!" he told him. "From what I remember, I was always waiting in this damned town..."

"How long did you stay here?"

"Too long! I'd just..." he paused, choosing his words carefully, "sold... the Falcon to Han Solo and it was the first place I was able to get passage to. Took me months to get off **this** ball of dust.... But," he grinned, "it wasn't all work and no play. Used to be a gambling club along the street. They had the most **incredible** dancer I have ever seen... legs that started at the floor and went on up to paradise, skin the colour of lyna petals, eyes the colour of the morning sky on Demska... and a bodyguard who'd break you in two if you looked at her the wrong way." He shook his head, remembering. "She was something, all right! Mated, unfortunately for the few I saw try, to the local gang boss... That was where I met most of the people who'll help us by noticing when we disappear. And if we've dropped enough hints, it shouldn't be too long before...."

A dark skinned woman in a leather jerkin and trousers slid into the booth beside Ã

Vrad, her companion joining Lando, pushing a blaster into the General's ribs, below the level of the table. Lando glanced down, then up at the woman, grip tightening round the glass of beer. The woman looked at him, "You've got a nerve showing your stinking carcass in here again, Calrissian."

Vrad hid a smile by suddenly having to scratch his nose. He watched Lando switch on the charm, giving the woman a wide grin, "Couldn't keep away from you MaeLym."

"Stow it, Slime-worm! It might have worked on my sister... once. It certainly won't work on me!" Lando said nothing. MaeLym shook her head, giving a short, cold laugh, "Aren't you even going to ask how she is, you cheating bag of slime?"

"I didn't cheat on her," Lando said evenly. "And I told her I had to leave... and why!"

"Sure, you told her. She found the **note** you left!" She shook her head, "You didn't even have the decency to tell her to her face!"

"I didn't have time... the ship was leaving..."

"Just like you are, right now!"

Lando shook his head, "I can't MaeLym," he told her calmly. "Things are different now..."

"You can, and you will! Before Shaela finds out you're back here!"

"MaeLym...."

"Ma'am," Vrad began, cutting him off. She turned her head, glaring at him. "Ma'am, I have no idea exactly what happened the last time my friend was here, but I'd be indebted if we could come to some arrangement. It's very important that we stay here for the next three days."

"Who," she asked, coldly, "the hell are you?"

"MaeLym Latann," Lando introduced, his voice low, "Luke Skywalker."

The woman glanced from Kelin: her partner, to Vrad then smiled without humour, "Charmed, I'm sure!" She turned her attention back to Calrissian, "You have until the midnight bell... then things will start to get nasty! You picked the wrong sisters to mess around!" She slid out of the booth, her partner following, both of them disappearing into the throng without looking back.

"Well that was a good start," Vrad said, sounding unconvinced, "I think..."

"Maybe..." Lando replied, staring into his beer, deep in thought. "Maybe not.... Wasn't exactly the re-union I'd planned."

Outside Kelin grabbed MaeLym's arm, pulling her to a stop, "Don't you think may not have been such a good idea?"

She glared at him, not quite believing what he'd said, "What?"

"What you said back there!" He lowered his voice, leaning close to her, "If that's the same Skywalker that the Empire are anxious to get hold of, then Calrissian could be with the Rebellion. They don't scare easily! You could just have made yourself some serious trouble!"

She yanked her arm free of his grip. "Rebellion!" she seethed, quietly. "Don't make me laugh! All he's ever been concerned about is himself!"

"Mae, people change! You have, Shaela has, I have! You were what, twenty-three? Shaela nineteen?" He took her shoulders in his hands, "Mae, all they need is three days. Hell, if the Rebel Alliance is sending people **here**... then the Empire is on the way out. Give the man a chance.... if not for Calrissian, then for Skywalker."

She screwed her face up, squinting at him, crossing her arms, "Since when did you get all emotional about the Rebellion?"

He grinned, sheepishly, "Since I discovered that I didn't have the guts to get myself killed...." He jerked his head in the direction of the cantina, changing the subject, "So are you going back in?"

"Hells, no!" Then she relented, "I'll let them stew for a while, get them when they come out."

~ # # ~

The amphitheatre was full. Rows of pilots sitting talking, joking in friendly rivalry, waiting. A paper aerofoil soared from the back, looping gracefully to crash, nose down, on top of an unsuspecting head. The woman retrieved it from the floor, tenderly smoothing out the dents in the nose as her wingman looked on, then turned. The aerofoil's creator sat with his arms folded, gazing up at the roof, pretending to whistle. She waited until he glanced at her, then launched it back. It fell slightly shy of its mark, slicing past an oblivious nose. Her wingman nudged her in the ribs and she turned back, a hush beginning to fall as group by group the pilots realised that the Commanding Officer of the Jade Fleet had finally arrived, followed by a man in uniform, minus insignia. The C.O. stepped up to the lectern, "Ladies and Gentlemen, your attention, please!"

The remaining murmur of voices fell to a complete silence, the attention of every pilot in the hall turning to her. "Thank you," she began, looking round the arrayed faces. "My apologies to those of you who have only just arrived. I know that your journeys have been long, and that you must be tired and in need of a good meal... but this briefing is important."

"Many of you will have heard rumours of the existence of a third Death Star. It is my unfortunate duty to inform you that those rumours **are** true." She paused, waiting for the commotion to die down a little, then rapped her hand on the lectern, bringing their attention quickly back to her. "You have been assembled here for, what will probably be, the most important offensive the Rebel Alliance has ever mounted against Imperial forces. Two of these space stations have already been destroyed, your mission is to aid in the destruction of this third threat!" The atmosphere thickened noticeably, enthusiasm tinged with trepidation. Pilots slid forward in their seats, concentration centred on the coming information as she turned, inviting, "Governor Madine?"

The lights dimmed slightly as she moved to the side, sitting down. Madine stepped up to the lectern, clearing his throat, remembering all too clearly the last time he'd stood in front of rows of pilots, briefing them on how to kill a Death Star. Shaking off the memory, he pressed a remote. A three dimensional line representation of the Death Star sprung into life between him and the pilots, rotating slowly in space.

"This is the first of only two briefings, ladies and gentlemen, and the last time you'll gather in one group to hear the over-all plan. So pay attention! In all probability, you will be there to cause a diversion and cover the escape of Rebel agents who will be inside the station itself." The hologram changed, showing a solid representation of a small freighter. "This ship will be carrying our agents. Familiarise yourself with it people, memorise it. Under no circumstances has this ship to be fired upon by any of you, and its protection is paramount! The cargo it will be carrying **must** reach us. At this moment in time I'm not at liberty to tell you the nature of the cargo. You will, however, be given that information at your final briefing." He paused for a moment, letting them look at the ship, letting the information sink in. Then the hologram changed again, returning to Death Star.

"If, however, things don't go to plan, it will be up to you to destroy the space station. X-wing and Y-wing flights listen up. Your target will be this small thermal exhaust port below the main port." The holographic perspective zoomed in towards the surface. "It's going to be a rough trip. The port is only two metres in diameter and only an **exact** hit will slip inside." A murmur swept across the hall. Madine ignored it, continuing, "To reach it you'll have to fly along the length of this trench. It's heavily defended, and you're not going to have a lot of room to manoeuvre. The only good points are that its a long, straight approach to the target **and **you'll have covering fire to take out not only Imperial fighters but also what we can of the surface defenses, giving you as trouble free a run as possible."

"That's where the rest of you come in. These guys are going to have their attention fully focused on not ramming into the sides of the trench, or each other. They do **not **want to be worrying about being picked off by TIEs. Initially stay back, take out the Imperials as they emerge from the station. Then you can get as close as you need to, to defend the wings lining up for the run."

"A-wings! Odds are that some of the TIEs **will** get through and follow our fighters into the trench. When you get the order, drop towards the surface and in behind the TIEs. Keep it in short, sharp, bursts. Once you've taken your target out, get out. If you fire more than five rounds, get out, let someone else have a go. A TIE could have you locked and loaded inside of five rounds."

"Sir," someone asked, "Why just us? The fire power of a frigate is far superior."

"Sure, son," another voice from the body of the hall answered, "but a ship the size of a frigate is a sitting duck for that thing. We saw that at Endor. Right, Sir?"

"Exactly," Madine confirmed. "The fire power of the Death Star is the same as about half the Imperial Fleet. Big ships can't manoeuvre fast enough. We proved at Yavin that small ships can get past their defenses, move too fast or their weapons to lock on and follow."

"Excuse me, Sir, but who'll be leading us in?"

"General Solo will, in the _Millennium Falcon_. He'll also be giving some of you the second briefing."

"What's the running order, Governor Madine?"

"Yet to be decided. That will be given to you at the second briefing. But I can tell you that the X-wings will be split into groups of three, as will the Y-wings. The rest of you will run in pairs. You'll be given your assigned places just before we leave to rendezvous with Admiral Ackbar's flagship at the jump off point." There was silence for a moment, then Madine told them, "Get some rest and something to eat. We'll be moving out within the next four hours." Madine ignored the grumble of surprise that washed through the hall as he looked to the C.O. who stood, motioning with her hand that he should continue. He turned back to the hall, "Dismissed!"

~ # # ~

Yommo stepped into the Grand Moff's office. Anjouk turned, "Yes, Admiral?"

"Sir, we're getting some unusual reports from various listening posts. Rebel patrols seem to have gone out as usual, but not returned."

Anjouk leaned forward, attention aroused, "What ships? How many?"

"The data indicates that over the past ten, fifteen hours, thirty of their usual surveillance patrols have been dispatched, that's approximately one hundred and twenty ships.... "

"In what sectors?"

"Straight across the board, Sir. Taking into account the places we have no evidence from.... there could be as many as two hundred and fifty: a substantial part of the Rebel fleet."

Anjouk frowned, leaning back in his chair, steepling his fingers against his lips, "What larger class ships have been mobilised?"

Yommo quirked an eyebrow, shrugging slightly, "That's the one unusual aspect, Sir. Only the small one man/two man ships are on the move. None of the frigates or carriers appear to have changed their usual position."

Anjouk's frown deepened. He pushed himself to his feet, striding across to the observation port, hand behind his back, deep in thought. What possible advantage could the Rebels hope to gain by sending only their small craft against a station of this size and power? True, Vader had informed the Emperor that only small ships had attacked the station at Yavin, but he had been unable to tell the Emperor exactly **how** the station had been destroyed... Assumptions had been made, leading to the introduction of the cloaked shielding around the exhaust ports. But the idea of anyone being able to drop explosives into a port only two metres wide, at the speed those ships had been travelling, was ridiculous. Finally he turned back towards Yommo, "It appears that we may be running out of time. Inform Major Daevith that we need the information from Antilles. I want the details of the destruction of Tarkin's station within the hour, if possible! He may use whatever force it takes.... if Antilles should die having given us the information, it is no longer of any consequence. The safety of this station is paramount! And if the Rebels are mobilising, I want a defence that will crush them."

~ # # ~

Typical, bloody typical! Just her damned luck! The thunderstorm vented its wrath over the city. Rain pounded off the ground, running in tiny rivers along the edge of the road towards the drainage channels, people scurrying in each direction. MaeLym sheltered in a doorway across from the cantina, chewing on a candy bar, waiting for Calrissian and his buddy to finally leave the damned place. At last they appeared, pulling the hoods up on their waterproofs, moving off down the street. She darted between two landspeeders, splashing through the puddles after them. Pushing between them, taking another bite of candy, she asked, "You still here, Scuzzball?"

Lando peered out from under the hood, sighing, "It isn't midnight yet!"

"Yeah, well, I've been thinking..." She stopped, pulling Vrad to a halt. "Is he with you," she asked quietly, stabbing in Lando's direction with the confectionery, "like part of the Rebellion, or are you using him as a means to an end?"

"General Calrissian and I are here to.... do some work," Vrad answered noncommittally.

She gave a low whistle, "**General**.... well I'll be damned. Never thought I'd see the day when you thought of anyone other than yourself, slimeball."

Lando regarded her from beneath the hood. There was unconcealed bitterness and sadness in his voice as he told her, "A run in with Lord Vader is enough to change anybody's mind. Made me see who my friends were."

She gave a short, sharp laugh, "Friends? What friends?" Before he could say anything she turned her attention back to Vrad, "You said you only needed three days?"

"Three days and we'll be out of your hair, MaeLym," the young man assured her.

"Well, then, you got your three days.... But only because I have no love for the Empire."

"Thank you, MaeLym."

"Just keep **him** out of my way," she said, starting to walk away. Despite her resolve to have nothing more to do with them, she hesitated after a few steps, running after them again with a sigh, "Wait!" They stopped, turning back towards her, "Look," she offered awkwardly as she reached them, "Skywalker, if there's anything I can do, I'd like to help. I meant what I said, I have no love for the Empire..."

Vrad glanced at Lando, who shrugged. Vrad smiled at her, "Call me Luke," he said, "And is there anywhere drier we can talk?"

~ # # ~

Daevith stepped back, rubbing away the pain in his fist, motioning with a jerk of his head that Fremen and Nawe should let Antilles go. The Rebel folded, crumpling half-conscious to the floor. "I was going to make this easy on you, Lieutenant-Colonel," he said, crouching beside the man who lay in a tumbled heap on the cell floor, "but yet again you insist on being stubborn." He stood up, "The mind probe would not have caused you too much discomfort once you had stopped resisting, but I can see that in your present state of mind it would be some time before you would succumb. It appears that we need to change your perspective." He nodded again to Fremen and Nawe, who reached for Antilles, dragging him off the floor, hauling him across to the wall. They held him immobile as the restraints locked into place.

Massaging his jaw lightly with one hand, Daevith rubbed a thumb across the healing wound on Antilles left arm, watching the delicate skin break and peel away. To his consternation the Rebel remained silent. Holding out his other hand to Fremen, he waited as the officer pulled his blaster free of the holster, dropping it, butt first, into the Major's hand. Daevith grasped it, thumbing it on, holding it millimetres away from the injury on Antilles other arm, "Now, Lieutenant-Colonel, you were about to tell me about the attack on the station at Yavin..."

Yommo wrinkled his nose in distaste at the stench as the door of the cell slid open, admitting him. Daevith turned away from the Rebel, displeasure quickly retreating from his face as he recognised the Admiral. Fremen and Nawe were already standing to attention, arms rigid at their sides, the Rebel momentarily forgotten. Daevith saluted, "Sir."

Yommo noted the Major's swollen, bruised mouth and jaw as he walked down the few steps into the cell, his gaze running across the body of the Rebel secured to the wall. Nausea rose into his throat and he swallowed it down, jerking his head towards the door, indicating that he wanted to talk outside. Daevith handed the blaster to Nawe before turning, following Yommo out of the cell.

The door closed, shutting off the pain and the terror. "I have come," Yommo began, "for a personal view of your progress with Antilles. We believe the Rebels may be mobilising. The Grand Moff wants the information about Tarkin's station within the hour!"

Daevith shook his head, "That won't be possible, Sir. The Lieutenant-Colonel is exceptionally... recalcitrant. Even to use the mind probe on him now would take time.... But given his current state," he admitted, "I believe we may be able to effectively use the probe soon. Please assure the Grand Moff that we are working as quickly as we can and that I will have the information as soon as possible." The Major smiled, "If the Grand Moff wishes, I have no objection to him inspecting our progress personally."

Yommo hid the distaste from his face, telling Daevith, "I will pass that information to the Grand Moff. I'm sure he will inform you of his intentions." He turned, leaving the Major to his duties, walking along the corridor towards the vacuum lift.

~ # # ~

Leia prowled the corridors of the Che'Lan base, unable to settle. Her nervous wanderings had un-nerved Han and they'd argued.... Argued, when all she'd wanted was for him to put his arms round her, hold her and tell her that everything was going to be all right. And yet how could she blame him? She had been unable to find the words to tell him what was wrong, explain to him what she was feeling: because that would mean acknowledging that something had actually happened.

She'd successfully locked away the memories of her time on the Death Star, hidden them so deep within herself that she had thought them lost for ever. Even the nightmares had finally stopped. So when Han had told her that Wedge had been taken, and then when she'd been arguing the point with Luke, the true memories still hadn't been there. It had simply been the surface impressions, vague sensations, just as it had when she'd finally realised that Luke meant to hand himself over to Vader. And she had no idea why now, suddenly, Mothma's words should crack the defenses she had built up.... "Don't you think that I know what he's going through?" she had accused her brother. "I know better than anyone else here...." But in truth, she hadn't: because she'd buried those events too deep.

_With the information that Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles can supply_... Mothma's words haunted her. Or was it the thought of so many more worlds being destroyed as Alderaan had... The dark, evil image of Vader loomed in her mind, terrifying in its clarity after so long, overpowering her, draining her strength... _**And now, Your Highness, we will discuss the location of your hidden Rebel base...**_ She stumbled into the wall, leaning against it for support, pressing her fists against her forehead, hopelessly reaching for the Jedi meditation techniques, desperately fighting for calm. The image remained, paralysing her as the droid hovered ever closer.... And the agony: Gods, the agony.... But

she wouldn't tell him, couldn't tell him...

Vader.... her father. Only he hadn't known it, thought her a Princess of Alderaan... _**part of the Rebel Alliance... and a traitor**_ Her legs gave way and she slid slowly down the wall to the floor, darkness filling her mind.

Then she felt a gentler, soothing presence. Luke...?

Someone was trying to ease her fists away from her face, the new presence in her mind telling her to let go. She relaxed, slightly, lifting her head, opening her eyes. Luke was kneeling beside her, his face troubled, concerned. And beside him, worried distress written in the tight line of his lips, the frown that creased his forehead... "Han!" she moaned, reaching for him.

Luke stood up, letting Han move in. The Corellian lifted her, murmuring gently and she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding onto him tightly, not wanting to lose him again, head against his shoulder, fighting back the tears. He carried her along the corridor, Luke following behind, to the guest quarters. Setting her down, gently on a sofa, he knelt beside her, holding her.

She clung to him for a moment longer, then pulled back, looking at him. The bemused look of dread on his face brought home, once more, why she loved this man so completely and unconditionally... She leant forward, kissing him deeply, then rested her head against his shoulder, savouring the smell of him. He held her, running his fingers gently through her hair.

"Leia?" Luke questioned, softly.

She frowned, not moving, trying to sort the feelings into words. Then began, slowly, "On the Death Star.... before you arrived.... what happened... I.. I tried so hard to forget... to simply convince myself that it **didn't** happen.... But it did. And hiding it has only made things worse. Because I know exactly what Wedge is going through, right now. The terror, the pain, the doubt..." She sat up, looking from Luke to Han. She searched her lover's face, running the back of her fingers gently down his cheek. "I'm sorry... I couldn't tell you before. It was too.... painful.."

He captured her hand, pulling it to his chest, kissing her on the forehead. "But I can tell you now," she continued, "I have to." She looked back at Luke, "Because if I don't it's going to destroy me...."

~ # # ~

MaeLym shovelled a forkful of food into her mouth. She looked at Vrad who had glanced at the clock. "What?" she asked, unable to hide the vicious streak in her tone, "You don't like my cooking?" Kelin shot her a warning look.

"No, it's wonderful," Vrad answered, fork poised, "but Lando's been gone a while...."

"Probably squandering your funds in the casino..." Mae began. Kelin kicked her under the table. "What?" she demanded, glaring at him, "I'm telling it as I see it!"

"Quit grousing," he shot back, "You're ruining my dinner." He turned to Vrad, "You must excuse my wife, Luke..."

Mae brandished the fork at him, "Don't make excuses for **me**..." The front door opened and they looked round, Lando appearing from the hall.

"Change of plan, Luke," he told the younger man, his voice tight with dismayed irritation, "Bouush is here?"

Vrad looked at him in alarm, "Since when?"

"Arrived before we did. Must just have been luck...." Calrissian didn't sound convinced. Mae looked from Lando, to Vrad, back to Lando. "But our contact won't be here until tomorrow!" Vrad was saying, his voice dark with concern.

"Who's Bouush?" Kelin asked, unable to miss the anxiety evident on both Rebel's faces.

"Bounty hunter who's after Luke. We thought we'd given him the slip..."

Vrad pushed back his chair, pulling the waterproof from over the back as he stood up. "You can stay here," Kelin offered glancing across at Mae, who nodded quickly.

But the blond Rebel shook his head. "Thank you. It's appreciated. But we'd only be putting you in danger... and if we can get a hold of our contact, he might be able to make it sooner." He moved with Lando towards the front door, pulling the waterproof over his head. Mae rose with Kelin, following them. "Look," Luke told them as Lando pressed the door release, "Thanks for....."

A humanoid figure pushed through the opening door, rifle against its shoulder, shoving Lando backwards with a foot against his chest. Mae watched in paralysed horror as Calrissian lost his footing, crashing against the wall. The rifle swung round towards Kelin. There was no sound, but her husband stumbled backwards, tumbling unconscious to the floor as the stun charge hit him. She saw Luke turn, start to move, then something thudded against her chest, pushing her backwards. The last thing she saw before she hit the floor was Lando leaping for the bounty hunter as he turned the rifle on Luke.

~ # # ~

The message had arrived: Lando's kidnap scenario on Demerin had swung into action. The foundation laid, Lando and _Luke_ had disappeared, and _Bouush's _ship had just blasted off Ffonsim. Han and Luke raced across the hanger towards the _Millennium Falcon_, Luke signalling to Jomanock and Gabhaan. The Falcon's ramp was already lifting as they ran inside. The two fighter pilots didn't bother to acknowledge, turning instead to their ground crews warning them that they were ready to go, canopies hissing closed.

Han stopped dead as he hit the flight deck, seeing Chewbacca's new colouring for the first time. Blinking away the initial shock, he slid into the seat, his partner already half way through the start procedures. "Nice paint job, Buddy," he quipped.

Chewbacca ignored him, the _Falcon_ thrumming into life around them as the engines kicked in. Han finished his checks, pulling the headset on. "Control, this is the _Falcon_. Ready to lift."

"_Falcon_, control. Standby. _Falcon_ consort, report."

"Control, _Falcon_ consort, we'll be ready to lift in one minute," Jomanock told

the Controller.

"Roger consort. Break. _Falcon_, lift at your discretion. You are number one."

"Roger, control. Lifting now."

The freighter eased off the ground, hovered for a moment above the deck, landing gear retracting, then Han slid her gently forward, swinging her round towards the mouth of the hanger. Stationary ships slipped past as he eased the Falcon out. Then they were free of the hanger, accelerating upwards. Lilac sky darkened slowly to black as they reached the outer atmosphere and headed towards the first jump point, the two X-wings close behind.

Chewbacca turned, and Han noticed for the first time the "scar" that ran from the centre of his forehead, down across his right eye. Chewbacca laughed softly at the look on Solo's face. Reaching into a pocket of the steel utility belt he now wore slung across his shoulder, he pulled out a patch, slipping it over his head and into place across his "injured" eye.

Han grinned, "You've looked better!"

Checking the co-ordinates again, Han finally locked them into the computer. Jomanock? Gabhaan? You set?"

"Aye, Sir!" Gabhaan responded.

"Ready when you are, Falcon!"

Han grinned, "Then let's do it!" The Falcon accelerated smoothly into hyperspace. He heard movement in the doorway and turned, giving Leia's Bouush attire an appreciative, low wolf whistle, quirking an eyebrow, "I'd forgotten how sexy you looked in that!"

Matching the raised eyebrow as he stood, moving towards her, she asked, "Weren't you blind the last time I wore this?"

Pushing away the ache that lodged deep inside him, trying not to think about this being the last time they might ever be together if things went wrong, he gave her a cheekily seductive smile, snaking his arm round her waist. "Oh..." he said as if suddenly remembering, "Yeah!" Drawing her towards him, he bent his head, kissing her. She wrapped her arms around him, curling her fingers through his hair. Finally they broke away, clinging to one other for a moment longer, looking at each other. She smiled, brushing her hand across his cheek and he captured it, pulling it close to his chest.

~ # # ~

Antilles had eventually passed out again. The binders retracted, Fremen and Nawe catching the Lieutenant-Colonel, lowering him to the floor. And Daevith smiled.

The Rebel was finally in a fit state to succumb to the mind probe: all the signs were there, he had seen them countless times before. It had just never, previously, taken him this long to tame a Rebel. Usually they were singing by the end of the second day. But now, at last, he was so close to breaking Antilles that he could almost taste the success. And **this** time there was no doubt!

He turned to Fremen, "Get the medi-droid, we need Antilles conscious. And summon one of the interrogation droids." As the Lieutenant obeyed, Daevith told Nawe, "Inform Admiral Yommo that we will have the information the Grand Moff requires, within the hour." Nawe turned, marching out of the cell and Daevith was left alone with Antilles.

He opened his mouth, gently probing the tender, swollen flesh of his jaw and lip with his fingers, looking down at the dark-haired man's inert body. Antilles had been difficult. The Rebel had taken so much, endured the interrogation. The cracks were certainly there, but in all, he had remained intact. And now he would break.... but only because of a drug: the Mind Probe. And that was a sour taste in Daevith's mouth. The knowledge that he had been unable to thwart the essence of the Lieutenant angered him, dented his pride. And yet, now that it was almost over he found himself experiencing.... remorse. No, not quite: it was more akin to regret. But the emotion still baffled him.

~ # # ~

The two X-wings dropped into normal space first, both pilots immediately scanning the area, finding nothing untoward. Moments later, the Falcon dropped into existence. "Conditions normal," Jomanock reported to Solo.

"That's what I like to hear," Han told him. "Now we just wait for Lando.."

As if on cue another battered ship dropped out of hyperspace, running in towards the Falcon and her escort. "Han, you old space bum, what have you done to my ship now?"

Behind Han, Leia shook her head as the Corellian grinned, "What do you mean ship, you pirate?" he quipped. Then asked, "Is that rust bucket you're flying ready to dock?"

"Ready as it'll ever be."

Jomanock watched, one eye on the sensor readings, the other eye on the two freighters as they slowly pirouetted, easing gently towards each other.

With a low thump the docking clamps engaged, Luke moving back through the Falcon towards the upper hatch. The elevator lifted him slowly up, the hatch twisting open. He looked up into the smiling face of Vrad. "You must be Skywalker," Luke grinned.

Vrad laughed, "Nice to see you again, Colonel." He moved back, out of the way as Skywalker stepped up into the ship.

"Which makes you the Bounty Hunter," Luke acknowledged the slender young woman standing behind Vrad, still in the Bouush costume.

Medith smiled, "In person, Sir."

"Everything go okay?" Luke asked them.

"Better than we could have planned," Lando said, appearing out of the flight deck, walking along the cabin towards him, "but I'll fill you in later." There was a burble of indignation from the floor. They looked down to see Artoo's domed head appearing in the hatch. All four dropped to their knees around the little droid, lifting him the few inches from the lift into the ship. He rolled a little way down the cabin, then stopped, beeping excitedly as he saw the gold shape of Threepio. "Artoo!" Luke warned, "Threepio knows nothing! And he's not to be told anything." The droid sighed, rolling towards the other unit.

"Everything as it should be?"

"Sure is. The concealed compartment is beneath the floor of the cell, big enough for three people, as requested. Operated from a remote switch in the roof over there," Lando turned pointing at the ceiling. The lift was humming again and Leia slowly appeared with Chewbacca, a bag slung over her shoulder. The Princess smiled, reaching out to give Lando a quick hug of greeting, then turned to Vrad and the young woman. "General Solo's waiting to go, if you're both ready?" They nodded. She stepped forward, shaking their hands, "Thank you for your help."

"It was a pleasure, Ma'am," the young woman said.

"Likewise, Ma'am."

Lando also offered his hand, shaking theirs. "You guys did good," he assured them.

"It was fun, Sir," Medith smiled. Then blushed slightly as Lando grimaced, rubbing at his chest where she had kicked him.

"Yeah..." he said, not sounding to sure.

She turned, picking up the mask, leaving the rifle on the seat. Then stepping down onto the lift beside Vrad, descending slowly through the hatch into the Falcon. Lando waited, ensuring the hatch was sealed before walking towards the flight deck, Luke and Leia following. Chewbacca was already sitting in the co-pilot's seat.

"Once we get under way," Lando told them, sliding into the other seat, "I'll show you how things work and where they are." He picked up a hand mike, "Han, old buddy, you ready to disengage?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

~ # # ~

Jomanock dropped out of hyperspace, running in towards the sleek, white bulk of Admiral Ackbar's frigate, Command Ship of the Rebel Alliance fleet: giving an appreciative low whistle at her elegant lines, never having seen her before. "_Narasann_, this is _Falcon_ Escort."

"_Falcon_ Escort, _Narasann_, show ident!"

Jomanock punched a key on the computer, sending out a code that would identify his fighter on the _Narasann's_ screen, differentiating him from the other small ships that he could see, "Ident coming your way now, _Narasann_."

There was a moment's pause, broken by Han Solo's voice, "_Narasann_, this is the _Falcon_, cruising in behind our escort."

"Identified," the Controller told them, "_Falcon_ escort, route direct to hanger bay Five, midships. _Falcon_, follow them in."

"Hanger bay five, midships for the _Falcon_ escort," Jomanock acknowledged, hearing Solo also repeating his instructions.

Medith gazed out of the Falcon's flight deck, pulling absently at the collar of her bounty hunter's gear. "That's a lot of ships," Vrad commented from behind Solo. The General grunted noncommittally.

"Something big must be going down..." Medith murmured. "Something real big." As she watched, another four ship flight of A-wings appeared, reporting in. "She's going to be crammed pretty full..."

Han said nothing.

Finally they were gliding in through the mouth of the hanger, marshallers running out onto the floor to guide the X-wings and the Falcon in. Medith concentrated on Solo, watching what he was doing as he eased the Falcon round, following the marshallers instruction, settling the freighter gently on the floor of the hanger. Vrad stood up as Solo began the shutdown procedures, moving out of the flight deck. Medith rose slowly, lingering for a moment.

Finally she plucked up the courage, "General, I don't know what's going on. It may or may not involve the little charade we played out in Demerin." He turned to look at her and she swallowed, trying again, "I'm ground crew with Jade fleet. I'm an engineer at heart... but my family haul cargo for a living. I crewed one of their freighters for a season before going to college..." She took a deep breath, her mouth suddenly dry as he continued to look at her, "I..."

Vrad appeared in the door and she lost her nerve. Solo turned back to the console, finishing the shut-down procedures. "My co-pilot just transferred to General Calrissian's ship," he told her, stabbing at a switch with his finger, turning back towards her. "Think you can handle it?"

She looked at him, wide-eyed, a grin slowly spreading across her lips, "Yes, Sir!"

"I'll be giving a briefing in about an hour. Find out where it is and be there."


	6. Day 6

**Day 6**

The pain expanded, engulfing him as the drug coursed through his veins, robbing him of breath. Then as quickly as it had overwhelmed him, it faded. He gasped for air, his lungs burning, head lolling, suddenly too heavy for his neck to support.

Daevith smiled, "The name of the ship you were to rendezvous with, Lieutenant-Colonel? Give me the name!"

Wedge felt as if he was floating, moving through a dream. Someone was talking to him.... who.... For a moment he couldn't remember who he was, where he was. Then his dazed mind pushed the answers through the cocktail of narcotics. Was this, he thought detachedly, the mind probe.....

"Antilles! The name of the supply ship you were to meet, what is it?"

The question stabbed through his head. He could feel the answer slipping slowly towards his lips and clamped down on it. The pain began to build again as he fought against betraying the name, his muscles burning, bones aching.

Daevith stepped up close to the Rebel, cajoling softly, "Don't fight it Lieutenant-Colonel. The more you fight it, the greater the pain will become. You've suffered enough already. Your integrity is undoubted... Let go."

Wedge moaned, shaking his head, his breathing coming in short agonised gasps. Daevith tried again, "All that I need is the name of the ship you were to rendezvous with. Give me the name of the supply ship." Again, the Rebel shook his head.

Daevith closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. This had to be the most stubborn individual he had ever had to deal with. He stepped away from Antilles, motioning the droid back towards the prisoner. The unit floated towards the Lieutenant-Colonel, hovering inches above him. An arm slowly extended, the syringe filled, once more, with the colourless liquid. Antilles flinched, crying out as the droid plunged the needle into his arm.

The cold liquid burned into his veins. He couldn't get enough air into his lungs, agony slowly unfolding its power, to overwhelm him. He clenched his jaw against the scream that crescendoed in his throat, but the anguish crushed through him. He fought against it, desperately resisting the drug, a small voice in the back of his conscience telling him that if he let go now, nothing could save him... The pain caressed him, pushing at him, drawing him further and further down. His spine arched against the restraints.

"GLAN'ENN...."

Unable to contain the potency of the scream any longer, the word tore itself from him with a jolt that ripped away all that remained of his resolve. The intensity of the failure drained him, shattering the last shreds of purpose. He filled his lungs with another shuddering breath. His heart faltered for a moment, then continued to beat. He collapsed against the restraints, broken, finally, in body and spirit, "Glan'enn," he moaned again, "Spice freighter... bound... bound for... Dantooine."

Daevith smiled, looking proudly at Fremen and Nawe. He walked back across to Antilles, "And where were you to rendezvous?"

".. far side of... the... Beriin system."

"And the name of her Captain?"

"Nazhan. Veriin Nazhan."

"Good, Lieutenant-Colonel," he assured Antilles, "Very good. Now, tell me, the Space Station at Yavin: how was it destroyed?"

~ # # ~

A chime sounded on the console and Luke slipped out of the co-pilot's seat, laying a hand briefly on Chewbacca's shoulder. The Wookiee looked round, covering Luke's hand with his own, saying nothing.

Lando and Leia looked up as Luke stepped into the living quarters from the flight deck, Artoo chirruping at him. "It's time," the young man told them quietly, heading for the tiny cell at the rear of the cabin.

Leia stood up, reaching for the binders as Lando slid out from behind the table. Turning away from her he put his hands behind his back and she stepped across, snapping the binders into place around his wrists. Clenching his teeth, following Leia down the cabin towards Luke, he twisted his wrists, letting the metal chaff the skin. Luke also presented his back to her, proffering his wrists.

"Don't do anything stupid," she petitioned, quietly, the binders snapping closed.

He turned, giving her a grin that reminded her of Han and she couldn't help but return the smile. Arms securely fastened behind his back he leant forward, kissing her gently on the cheek. "I'll be careful, I promise."

She stepped away, allowing Lando into the cell before turning the force field on with a remote switch, slipping the remote into a pocket. Giving them one, last look she said, "I'd better get my head gear, then turn Threepio back on." Then she disappeared back down the cabin.

Luke dropped gracefully to the floor, lying down on his side as Lando slid down the wall. Slowing his breathing to deep, even breaths, Luke let himself glide down towards meditation, opening his senses fully to the Force: concentrating at first on himself, Lando, the cell. Then slowly easing out towards Artoo, Threepio, Leia, Chewbacca, feeling the life energy flowing through and around them, each of them adding their own uniqueness to the whole, the Force. And always there, ready to prey, to feed of his fear; his hatred: The Dark Side.

He had already tasted its power. On the Death Star at Endor he had succumbed to its first tentative seduction, used it in a desperate attempt to protect Leia by destroying Vader. Only, he had seen the danger in time, had pulled back... and now his strength came from acknowledging its existence but refusing it, pushing it away.

Reaching out again he stretched his senses further afield, crossing the decreasing distance towards the Death Star. He settled into the meditative state, completely aware of everything happening around him. But to those not trained in Jedi ways, even to medical droids, he would appear deeply unconscious. No threat to anyone.

~ # # ~

Leia slipped the helmet on, securing it to the rest of the armour, testing the voice box. "What do you think Artoo?" The droid whistled excitedly at the electronic warble it added, and behind the faceplate, Leia grinned, beginning to settle into character. Reaching behind Threepio she flipped open a tiny cover, pressing his "on" button. The gold droid burst into life.

"Oh, my! What's happening... I.. Good gracious!" he finished, suddenly seeing Leia.

_What is your designation_? she demanded in Ubese.

_I... I am See-Threepio, human-cyborg relations_.... he replied.

_Can you speak Human Standard_? Leia demanded, menacingly.

_I... yes.. I am programmed_.... But Leia had already turned, stalking towards to the flight deck. Threepio quickly scanned the cabin, spotting the short, dome-headed figure lurking in the corner. "Artoo? Artoo, what's going on?"

The little droid mewled mournfully, then began clicking and beeping. "The bounty hunter Bouush!" Threepio cried in dismay. He jerked his head round to look at the open flight deck door, "Oh my..." Turning back to Artoo he wailed, "I thought I recognised him. Oh, Artoo, what's to become of us..."

Artoo interrupted with a series of burbled whistles, "Master Luke and General Calriss.... oh no! Artoo, we have to help them! Where are they?" He stood up, only to find that his feet were secured to the floor, leaving him unable to walk. "Artoo! I can't move!" he panicked.

A huge black and silver Wookiee appeared in the door of the flight deck, moving towards him. Threepio, for once, stayed silent. The Wookiee reached down, unlocking the restraints and, taking the protocol droid by the arm, propelled him towards the flight deck.

Bouush turned as they entered, Tell them that your master is the bounty hunter Bouush and that he has something to interest them! Tell them to let us inside!

_Yes, yes, of course_... Threepio began, stuttering to a stop as he saw that they were running in towards what looked frighteningly like a Death Star. But the Wookiee pushed him forward. Stumbling against the back of the bounty hunter's chair, Threepio finished, _Of course.... Sir_. He leant forward, taking the com-link from Bouush's outstretched hand. "Attention Space Station. My master bids me tell you that he is the Bounty Hunter Bouush! He also bids me tell you that he has something here of great importance to you and graciously asks that he be allowed to bring his ship on board, in order that he may come to some arrangement with you."

A voice, heavy with distaste, crackled over the radio, "Standby, Bounty Hunter."

Leia sat, waiting, feeling sweat trickle slowly down her spine. In the cold reality of the situation, their request seemed so lame. As the seconds dragged by, she began to convince herself that it wasn't going to work. All this way, all this planning, and it wasn't going to work, damn it. Tension slowly eased its way up her neck into her head. From behind the bulk of the space station she saw a flight of TIEs glide into view.

Then the radio burst into life again, "Bounty Hunter, follow the fighters into the docking bay."

"Yes, Sir," Threepio replied without prompting, "Follow the fighters in." He turned to Bouush, _We are to follow the TIE fighters into a docking bay_. The Wookiee pushed past him to sit in the co-pilot's seat. _Get out_, Bouush told him without turning round.

_I.. yes. Yes, of course, Sir_. He tottered out of the flight deck, moving back along the cabin, following the sound of a force field towards the cell tucked at the back. "Oh, how did we get into this mess, Artoo?" he wailed as he passed the little droid. "Master Luke? General Calrissian?"

"Threepio?"

The droid reached the cell, seeing Lando Calrissian clambering to his feet, hands bound behind his back. His normally pristine attire was grubby and ripped in places. And beside him, on the floor, lay the unconscious body of Luke Skywalker. "Oh, no! Master Luke?"

"Threepio, see if you can turn the force field off!" Lando told him.

Threepio stepped back, flustered, searching the wall area for a switch. "There doesn't appear to be anything here to **turn** it off , General...."

"Nothing at all?"

"Nothing..." He looked quickly at the door of the flight deck, then stepped in towards the force field, "General Calrissian, Bouush is taking us on board the Death Star!"

Lando played his part well, giving Threepio a look of undisguised horror, "Death Star....?"

"Yes, Sir! I've just seen it, and we're cruising in towards it! Oh.. I'm sorry, Sir, but there doesn't appear to be anything I can do!"

"That's okay," Lando told him, slumping back against the wall as if defeated and sinking slowly down it to the floor.

Threepio looked at him aghast, "Oh, my," he wailed. "Oh my!"

The Death Star's immense bulk slowly blotted out the stars as Chewbacca guided the ship in, following the TIES. They turned slightly, approaching the station at an angle before turning again, flying the last of the approach at right angles to the surface. "That must be it," Leia commented quietly, pointing to a rectangular point of light, ahead and to the right, the synthetic voice still sounding strange. Chewbacca rumbled a soft assent, remembering the last time he had approached a station like this.

Sooner than she could ever have been prepared for, the TIEs broke off, leaving them to glide inside the open maw of the landing area. Chewbacca brayed something, quietly, pointing out the lone X-wing that sat on the far right hand side of the hanger. Leia nodded, glancing at him. She watched troops rushing into position as Chewbacca brought the ship into a hover, settling it onto the ground with a gentle thud. Leia stood up as he ran through the shut down checks, lifting a rifle from the side of her chair before walking into the cabin. Threepio jerked round guiltily as she appeared and she swung the rifle up to point at him, standing for a moment, watching him. Then she turned, moving into a corridor towards the landing hatch.

_Protocol Droid_! she barked, _Come here_!

~ # # ~

The hatch hissed open, then retracted, a ramp gliding quietly from beneath the hatch to the floor. A slender humanoid form stepped out of the ship, moving down the ramp with lithe, easy grace, a rifle held loosely in it's hand. Behind it tottered a gold droid. And behind that, Commodore Gresse noted in disgust, an eight foot, black and silver furred.... _thing_.

The humanoid surveyed the scene, slowly. Then spoke in a language Gresse couldn't understand. The droid stepped forward, "My master asks who is in charge here?"

The Commodore stayed exactly where he was. "I am."

The humanoid turned its helmeted head to look at him, then spoke again. The droid translated, "My master wishes to converse with your Commanding Officer, and him alone. My master believes that your Commanding Officer will be very interested in what he has to sell."

Gresse gazed at them, arrogantly, "You will discuss the matter with me! I speak for.."

The humanoid cut him off and again the droid translated, "With all due respect to your exalted position, my master says that this is of too great an importance. He will discuss it only with your Commanding Officer, and believes that your Commanding Officer will not take kindly to your delay in informing him of the situation."

Gresse felt his anger beginning to rise at this impudence, "Tell him..." he began, but the humanoid had taken a step towards him. From the unintelligible blurb unleashed upon him, Gresse understood only one word: **Skywalker**. Rethinking the situation rapidly, his anger swiftly evaporating towards excitement, he listened as the droid told him, "Master Bouush says that the matter involves a Rebel called... Skywalker, wanted for crimes against the Empire."

"You will come with me!" Gresse told the bounty hunter, starting to turn away. But there was another spiel of incomprehensible babble.

"My master, Bouush, has no wish to be led to an interrogation cell. The information is for sale only. And unless you bring your Commanding Officer here, he will..." The droid hesitated for a moment, then continued, his voice quavering slightly, "..self destruct the ship killing everyone within this landing bay.... I strongly suggest that you comply with his wishes, Sir!"

Gresse's anger flared again. Threatening the Commodore was not something many people survived! Then a calm returned as he decided that in this case, discretion was most definitely the best part of valour. He turned to Bouush, "Remain here! I will see if the Grand Moff is available."

The bounty hunter inclined his head, then turned, walking into his ship.

~ # # ~

"Sir..." Gresse began.

"I heard, Commodore...." He turned to the Admirals and Junior Staff seated round the table. "What do we know of this Bounty Hunter."

"Bouush has done some work for us in the past, Sir," the Intelligence Officer told him. "His file shows him to be as trustworthy as any mercenary can be... responsible for handing over quite a number of Rebels, most notably Colonel Willard, the man in charge of the Rebel Alliance Ground Forces at the Yavin base during that incident. Disappeared without trace just over a year ago... There was some rumour of him having died with the Hutt on Tatooine, but nothing was ever substantiated."

"Admiral?"

Yommo shrugged, "Normally I would counsel caution, Sir, but in this case I can see no problem in talking to him."

Anjouk, stood, "Then let us see what this mercenary has to offer us, Gentlemen."

Un-noticed by the assembled personnel, an Artoo unit trundled quietly down the ramp of the bounty hunter's ship, rolling across the hanger floor towards a niche in the far hanger wall. Inside the ship, lying on the floor of the cell, Luke wove the Force, wrapping it round the collective Imperial concentration, hiding Artoo from them. Lando watched him anxiously, glancing up at Chewbacca as the Wookiee appeared on the other side of the force field. Calrissian shrugged. Chewie shook his head then moved away.

Artoo rolled to a stop, extending his claw arm, rotating the end slightly before slipping it into the computer socket. Burbling quietly to himself, he soaked in the information. Then, with a low whistle of thanks, he broke the connection, arm retracting back into his body. He turned, slowly trundling back towards the ship, up the ramp and inside.

He rocked on his legs, beeping excitedly. Threepio looked at him in exasperation, "Artoo, what **are** you talking about? Who's here?" But the Wookiee was already shoving the little unit towards the computer socket in the flight deck.

"Artoo," Leia's synthesised warned softly through the mask. The little unit made a small sound, as if in apology, then plugged the claw arm into the ship's computer. Data flashed rapidly across the screen. When it finally stopped, Artoo pushed a message onto the screen. This station was no different from the one at Yavin. And Wedge was still here, level five, detention block AA-zero-five. Despite herself, Leia shivered, memories of her own experiences in a detention cell flowing, unbidden, to her mind. She swallowed, taking a deep breath trying to calm the terror that rose in her chest. Chewbacca laid a hand on her shoulder and she gripped it tightly. Holding onto him, using the Jedi meditation rituals that Luke had taught her, she fought for control.

Then her brother's mind gently touched her's. Using his strength, letting him guide her, she felt the terror slowly fading. Finally, back in command of her emotion, she loosened her grip on Chewie's hand and gently pushed Luke away, letting him know that she was all right: using the link to tell him about the station, giving him Wedge's location. Luke stayed with her a moment longer, then Chewbacca growled, letting her know that someone was coming and her brother's presence receded.

She stood up, lifting the rifle, patting Artoo's head as she passed him, following Chewie out of the flight deck towards the hatch. _Hang on, Wedge, just hang on. We're coming_.

~ # # ~

Han strode into the conference room, the murmur of voices dying swiftly to silence. He stood at the lectern for a moment, looking round the faces of the assembled B-wing pilots, his gaze finally resting on Medith, tucked into the far corner. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "The mission plan, as you have already been informed, has been split into two distinct parts. The destruction of the Death Star by your colleagues will only swing into action if the initial plan fails. In that event, your assignment is to protect the X-wings and Y-wings during their bombing runs." He activated the holo-image, a large, three dimensional figure of the Death Star appearing. "The bombing run streams in from this direction," flags began appearing along the line of the proposed course, "dropping into the trench at this point. From then on, the wings will be most susceptible to enemy fire. The A-wing flights will go in first, running in from the same direction, skimming low over the outer surface of the Death Star, taking out the surface guns so that the guys in the trench can concentrate on not hitting the sides and each other. Once they've taken out what they can, they'll be dropping in behind any TIEs that get through."

"You're job in this scheme is to take out the TIEs before they get out of their launch bays. They're not as fast, but their more manoeuvrable than your ships." The bright bombing run flags faded, other markings appearing. "You've already been split into flights of three pairs. Each flight will be assigned to a particular launch area. Take the TIEs out as they appear from the station. Who's been allocated as First and Second pairs?" Hands rose into the air, "Okay, you guys will remain almost static, picking the TIEs off. Third pairs?" Other hands rose, "You're job is to get the fighters the first pairs miss. But don't follow them too far. The A-wings, as I said before, will take out any that make it to the trench. Track them long enough to make sure that they don't arc back and take you out from behind. If things get real hairy, the Second pair will break the static line and help out, understood?"

Heads bobbed, a murmur of ascent sweeping the pilots. "It's going to be tricky, people. You'll be balancing on a fine point. We need that static line as constant as possible to take out the fighters, but stay still too long and they'll get a weapons lock on you." He paused, letting the information sink in before continuing, "Finally, and most importantly, the code for breaking off the attack and getting the hells out of the area before the station blows. The phrase "_All flights. Break! Break! Break_!" will be used. When you hear it, break off, run like hell. Once you've regrouped, make the jump to the first rendezvous point."

He paused for a moment, then smiled. "Now that we've got that out of the way, here's what you're **really** going to be doing. X-wings and Y-wings will be running in close to the surface, doing as much damage and creating as much havoc as possible, establishing a diversion for this ship," the holo-image changed again to show Lando's freighter, "to make a free run for home. Study this picture well, people. Under no circumstances has this ship to be fired upon! I know Governor Madine stressed that at the first briefing, but I'm reiterating it! I believe that he also told you you'd be informed of the cargo..." He took a deep breath, "Lieutenant-Colonel Wedge Antilles, Red Leader, has been a prisoner on the Death Star for just over five days..."

An audible gasp swept across the hall. Han let it die away, then continued, "This ship, Ladies and Gentlemen will be bringing him out."

"On this assignment, your position is almost the same. You have been assigned to a particular launch area to take the TIEs out as they appear from the station. The only difference is that all three pairs will take up the static line. This time the A-wings will be watching your backs and taking any TIEs that get past you. Concentrate on dropping the TIEs, but watch for this ship! Whoever sees it first, tell me and I'll escort it out of the area. Again, when you hear the phrase "_All flights. Break! Break! Break_!": break off, run like hell, regroup then jump."

~ # # ~

Grand Moff Anjouk strode across the hanger deck, followed by an entourage of more junior officers and security personnel. The bounty hunter sauntered down the ramp, rifle held across his body, his arms crossed. A gold protocol droid followed him down to the hanger floor. The huge frame of a Wookiee appeared in the open hatchway, but remained inside the ship.

"I am Grand Moff Anjouk, Commanding Officer of this battle station. Commodore Gresse tells me that you have information to sell," Anjouk said bluntly, coming straight to the point.

Bouush inclined his head, then began talking, the droid translating, "Perhaps, if the price is right."

Anjouk allowed himself a smile, "The Empire will be most grateful for any valid information on the Rebel Skywalker."

"Gratitude will not fix Master Bouush's ship, or fill the Wookiee's belly."

Anjouk smiled again, "I'm sure the substantial amount of money to accompany that gratitude, would."

"With respect, Sir, Master Bouush worries that your definition of substantial may not exactly match his own."

"Tell your master, he will be well rewarded!"

"How much?"

Anjouk was growing tired of this bartering nonsense. "I believe," he said coldly, "that the bounty on Skywalker's head has just been raised by another ten thousand credits! I'm sure that we will be able to come to some sort of arrangement. For valid information!"

"And if my master can deliver Skywalker, Organa, possibly Solo, what agreement can be made?"

"Prove that I will not merely be wasting my time in discussions. Then, and only then, can we talk of re-numeration."

The bounty hunter said nothing for a moment, then turned moving back up the ramp and into the ship. The Wookiee also disappeared. Moments later Bouush returned, herding in front of him a dark-skinned man. Not moving quickly enough for Bouush's liking, the bounty hunter shoved him forward with a foot in the small of his back. The man stumbled, almost regained his footing but ended up crashing to the deck in a heap at Anjouk's feet.

_General Lando Calrissian!_ Anjouk watched, marvelling at his own good fortune, as the man clambered, inelegantly, to his feet. First Antilles.... now Calrissian: fate was certainly favouring him! The Wookiee had appeared, another figure slung across his shoulder. Anjouk watched with growing interest as the huge beast strode down the ramp, sliding the body from his shoulder, letting it drop to the floor beside Calrissian.

What other little bird has this bounty hunter caged for us, the Grand Moff wondered. Bouush stepped across, swinging the rifle down, pointing it at the unconscious man. _Luke Skywalker_ There was a sharp intake of breath from Yommo, standing at Anjouk's side. For a moment no-one moved. Then Anjouk walked forward, flipping the prone form of the Rebel terrorist onto its back with his foot. "Skywalker is sedated, nothing more," the droid translated. "Master Bouush underestimated Skywalker once before... and warns that it almost cost him his life!"

"Noted," Anjouk told him, thrusting down the excitement that bubbled in his guts, his attention on Skywalker. So this was the man Vader had uprooted half the galaxy to find. This was the man the Emperor had allowed himself to be destroyed because of. This was the man who was going to help rid the galaxy of the Rebel Alliance once and for all! "Well, Bounty Hunter, it appears that owe you rather a substantial amount of money!"

"Master Bouush feels, at this time, that he should point out that he has many enemies, and few friends. Therefore his ship is programmed to self-destruct should anything happen to him. He mentions it only because he hates to think that a blaster, going off purely by accident, would ultimately destroy this hanger and most of the surrounding levels!"

"Tell your master that he is quite safe on this station!" Anjouk told the droid, voice icy. "After all, he has promised to add Organa and Solo to our little collection!" Not waiting for the droid to translate, Anjouk turned his attention to Calrissian. The man stood in quiet dignity, mouth hard, eyes spitting hatred. "Commodore Gresse?" the Grand Moff began, not releasing his gaze from Calrissian's.

"Sir?"

"My complements to Major Daevith. Inform him that when he has finished with Antilles, I wish to see him." The anger faded from Calrissian's eyes for a moment, uncertainty flickering as Gresse saluted, turning smartly and marched away. Anjouk schooled his face into a look of surprise, "Haven't you heard, General Calrissian? Lieutenant-Colonel Wedge Antilles has been sampling our hospitality for the last five days. I'm sure he will be delighted to see you."

Calrissian made a move, as if to go for Anjouk, but in one instantaneous wave of sound, ranks of rifles suddenly pointed straight at him, bringing him up short. The Wookiee had also moved, catching the back of the General's shirt and now dragged him back, away from the Imperial Commanding Officer.

"Take them away!" Anjouk ordered, coldly. "Put them beside Antilles!"

Two stormtroopers moved in on either side of the two Rebels, taking hold of Calrissian's arms, dragging Skywalker off the floor. Anjouk turned his attention back to Bouush, "Perhaps you would join me while I make arrangements for your payment to be dealt with.

Bouush said something to the Wookiee, who moved back to the ship, then fell

in at Anjouk's side, the droid close behind.

~ # # ~

Luke waited until they were in the elevator, gliding upwards to the detention cells, then moaned softly as if coming round. By the time the elevator slid smoothly to a halt, the two stormtoopers were holding him upright. He let his head loll, as if still under the effects of the sedation. The doors opened, the troopers marching Lando and Luke into the detention area.

The black uniformed officer checked a screen. "Put Skywalker in twelve-seventeen... and Calrissian in twelve-thirteen!"

"Wait!" a voice commanded, "Where is Antilles?"

Without questioning, the officer checked the screen, "Twelve-zero-nine."

Luke smiled as the stormtroopers moved forward, directing their prisoners up the steps and along the detention block corridor towards the respective cells. The door to Luke's cell opened, then closed, the stormtroopers marching back down the corridor, sure in the knowledge that they were abandoning him to the tender mercies of the interrogation officers. Standing outside the cell, Luke grinned, watching their retreating backs, the binders unlocking and falling softly to the floor. Then he turned, jogging the few metres to where the other two stormtroopers were shoving Lando into his cell.

For reasons known only to themselves, they stepped inside instead of closing the door. Luke reached out, gathering the Force, and the two men folded spinelessly to the floor. Lando's binders unlocked, falling away. Already ragging off his clothes, he turned. Luke stripped one of the troopers, handing the uniform armour to Calrissian, checking quickly down the corridor as Lando pulled it on.

For some reason the guards in the hall area hadn't realised that only one pair of stormtroopers had left. Luke grinned. Finally Lando was ready, scooping a blaster rifle from the fallen stormtrooper. Together they stepped out into the corridor, moving quietly back towards cell zero-nine. Luke picked up the discarded binders as he passed, locking them round his wrists. "I don't think Wedge is alone," he whispered to Lando, holding up his bound arms, "just in case they suss before we get inside." The General acknowledged with a nod of his head.

Major Daevith turned as the door opened. A blond man, hands secured in front of him, stepped down into the cell, a stormtrooper following. "Yes?" Daevith demanded, stepping forward.

For a moment Luke said nothing, his attention on the man secured, by metal restraints, against the wall between two other officers. A pain droid hovered at his side. With an effort Luke forced himself to be calm, to push away the feelings of anger and hatred that surged to the surface as he saw the state that Wedge was in. He looked at the officer in charge, saying simply, "I am Luke Skywalker."

Slowly, the Lieutenant-Colonel lifted his head, hearing but not believing. "No-o-o..." Wedge moaned softly as he recognised the newcomer, "No...." He closed his eyes as the room began to spin, willing the image to go away. _It wasn't Luke! Goddess.. no.. it couldn't be Luke_. Please, let him be dreaming... let this just be another nightmare....

Daevith's annoyance washed towards pleasure. Then surprise as the binders on Skywalker's wrists opened and clattered to the floor. He reached for his blaster. But Skywalker had ducked, twisting round, reaching inside his tunic. As Daevith's blaster cleared its holster, the lightsabre hummed into existence. Luke let his momentum push him round, swinging the Jedi weapon up towards Daevith's neck. The stroke complete, he switched the sword off, watching in calm disinterest as Daevith's body crumpled to the floor, his head rolling to a stop at Lando's feet. Blaster aimed at the other officers, concentration totally on them, Lando kicked it away.

Luke stood, lightsabre held loosely in his hand, "There has been a slight change of plan, gentlemen. You will move away from Antilles into the corner." Wordlessly, the men complied then crumpled, unconscious, to the floor.

Lando slung the rifle over his shoulder, rushing, as Luke did, across to Wedge. The restraints retracted into the wall with a hiss, the two Rebels catching their friend as he collapsed, lowering him gently to the floor.

"Luke..." Wedge began, unsure about what he'd just witnessed, not quite believing that they were here to rescue him, waiting for the real Daevith to walk through the door laughing as the hallucinations faded back to reality. But the hands on his shoulders **felt ** real, as real as the agony.... He lifted his head, opening his eyes. And Luke was still there. The stormtrooper pulled off the helmet to reveal Lando Calrissian.

"We gotta get you out of here, Wedge. Can you walk?" Luke asked, gently.

Tears slid slowly down Antilles' cheek, "I... I don't know... Yes... I think...."

"Luke," Lando cautioned, tersely, "we can't take him out looking like this!"

Luke acknowledged the truth in Lando's statement. He could alter most people's perception, but there was always the danger of that **one** who couldn't be influenced... like Jabba. Wedge, in this state, was going to make it even more difficult... There was only one, obvious solution. "Strip one of those guys, Lando. I'll help Wedge."

Luke supported Wedge's back, gently pulling the shirt off his shoulders, easing Antilles's arms out of the sleeves, trying not to disturb the burns, telling him, "Sorry about this, Wedge, but if Lando can pretend to be an Imperial, so can you."

"Shouldn't be... too... difficult," Wedge quipped, listlessly. "All they've gotto do... is... beat you... to a pulp."

Luke shot a grin at Wedge, biting down on his anger, unable to avoid seeing the black/green mass of bruises that covered his friend's back and ribs. Finally, the shirt removed, he helped Wedge to his feet. Wedge bit down on the pain, fingers digging into Luke's arms as he fought through it, stifling a groan. Luke held him upright, Lando slipping the sleeves of the Imperial uniform jacket up his arms and over his shoulders. Wedge moaned softly, once. They swapped Rebel for Imperial uniform trousers, Calrissian holding Wedge as Luke slipped the boots on for him then fastened the jacket. Finally, Lando stuck the helmet on Wedge's head, securing the strap under his chin. "How you doing?"

"I've been better."

"Just take it easy, Wedge," Luke told him. "If you're in trouble, tell us. We'll get round it."

Wedge nodded, "Okay." Then slowly they helped him towards the steps. At the end of the corridor, before they stepped down into the hall area, Wedge visibly dragged himself straighter, finding the strength somewhere deep inside himself to pull away from them. Luke gave Lando a slight nod, indicating that they should let Wedge go, then gathered the Force, reaching out to support Wedge, taking some of the weight, helping dull the pain.

The officers in the hall area seemed pre-occupied with something on one of the screens, not looking up, swearing later that two officers and a stormtroopers had gone past. Wedge gritted his teeth, fighting to stay conscious and on his feet for the eternity that they waited for the vacuum elevator. His head was swimming, his body protesting. Luke moved slightly closer, catching hold of his friend's elbow, steadying him. Eventually the door hissed open. Wedge stepped inside, aware that Luke and Lando had

followed. The door hissed closed.

And Luke caught Wedge as he passed out.

~ # # ~

Leia stood at the observation window, looking out at the stars beyond. The relief that she'd felt when Artoo had given them Antilles' location, belaying the nagging worry that all of them had felt, but never voiced: that Wedge was no longer on the Death Star: was beginning to fade, replaced by uncertainty about how Lando and Luke were doing. Things had been made that much easier when the Grand Moff had ordered them taken to the same cell block as Wedge.... but it was still a long way from the detention block to the hanger. And they had no idea of the state of Wedge's health.

"Breath-taking, isn't it?"

Bouush turned to Anjouk. "Yes."

"So you do speak standard," the Grand Moff smiled, as if sharing a secret.

Leia cursed silently. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid... concentrate! "Speak...." she began as if finding it hard to pronounce the words, "difficult.... Understand.... perfect."

"Ah, I see. Your money is being dealt with, my men will load it outside your ship." He crossed to his desk, indicating that the bounty hunter should sit. Bouush moved towards the desk, but remained standing. "Tell me, Bouush... our file on you seems rather incomplete... I was wondering what had become of you over the last year or so?"

Behind the mask, Leia smiled, dropping back into her well rehearsed part. _As I told you_, she began, Threepio translating for Anjouk, _I made the mistake of under-estimating Skywalker. He, however, made the mistake of not_ killing _me. Instead he left me for dead in the back streets of some nondescript city,_ _where I'd tracked him down making enquiries about the Corellian, Solo. By the time I had recovered, news was just breaking about the debacle on Tatooine with Jabba the Hutt. Leia Organa had apparently used my identity to gain access to the Hutt's palace, to free Solo. Suddenly I found that half the galaxy thought I was dead... and the other half thought I had joined the Rebellion, that Organa had used my identity with my consent. Either way, my customer base was destroyed. It made things personal_.

"Yes," Anjouk agreed, "I can see how it would."

_One of the few acquaintances I have left_, Bouush continued, _informed me that Calrissian was in Demerin and that it was widely rumoured Skywalker was also going to turn up .. the rest, as they say, is history_.

~ # # ~

Luke halted the elevator. "Wedge? Wedge, come on, buddy..."

"Luke," Lando warned, "he's bleeding." A small pool of blood was beginning to form beneath Wedge's hand, dripping along his fingers to the floor, a dark patch appearing on the sleeve of the jacket. "The burn must have caught..."

Luke briefly considered trying to staunch the flow, but if there was internal injuries it might kill him. No, not viable... Better just to carry him across the hanger to the ship. It was going to be difficult to distract so many people, but as long as they didn't have to go too far it would probably work... "How far from the elevator to the ship?"

Lando frowned, trying to remember, "Sixty... maybe a hundred yards..."

Just what he'd estimated. Not **that** far, he considered.

Wedge moaned softly, his eyes flickering open. "Shit..." he began, realising that he was lying on the floor. He attempted to get up, but Luke held him, stopping him.

"Wait, Wedge. Lie still for a minute, get some strength back. There's no hurry," he lied. Wedge relaxed against him. Luke glanced up at Lando, "I'll cause a distraction, take their attention away from the area between the lift doors and the ship long enough for us to get inside. And if we need to, we carry you, Wedge."

Wedge murmured, already slipping back into unconsciousness. Luke glanced up at Lando. "Fine by me. Let's do it," Lando said.

Together they lifted Wedge to his feet, holding him round the waist, his arms round their shoulders. Luke reached out, starting the elevator on its journey again, using the strength of the Force to cradle most of Wedge's weight. "When the doors open, we wait until I give the say so, then we run."

"Got it," Lando told him. Bright red splatters of blood dripped down his armour. The lift slid smoothly to a halt. The doors hissed open. There, ahead of them, off to the left, sat Wedge's X-wing, technicians pulling it to pieces. Luke stretched out, visualising the fighter, slowly working at the restraining pin in the front landing gear. With a wrench, it sheared. Cries of panic echoed through the hanger as the X-wing's front gear folded, the fighter smashing onto its nose.

"Now!" They lifted Wedge, racing across the hanger floor towards the ship, Imperial personnel ignoring them, totally absorbed in the X-wing as the nose tore into the hanger floor, the left main gear starting to buckle. Chewbacca appeared in the hatchway of the ship, wandering down the ramp to see what all The excitement was about.

"Chewie," Luke shouted over the commotion, as they approached. The Wookiee turned, saw them, and moved quickly back into the ship. They dashed up the ramp. Inside, Chewbacca met them, swinging Wedge effortlessly into his arms, carrying him through the living area into the cell. Behind him, Lando pressed a remote switch hidden in the roof of the cabin. Part of the cell floor slid away, revealing a large concealed compartment and a multitude of Medi-Paks. Chewbacca knelt, laying Wedge gently onto the pillowed floor of the compartment, Lando already on the other side, describing what he had seen of Wedge's injuries, beginning to cut away the pilot's Imperial uniform.

Luke had activated another switch, reaching into a niche in the flight deck, pulling out a belt of time delayed devices. He strapped them round his waist, then moved to the hatch. Confusion still reigned in the hanger. Beginning to gather the Force, to ensure that no-one saw him he started to move down the ramp, then stopped dead. Dark blood-smudged footprints trailed across the hanger floor, up towards the hatch....

Swearing, he turned back. "Chewie?" He reached the cell, "Chewie?" The Wookiee growled at him, not turning. "Chewie, this is important!" The Wookiee rumbled, thrusting the medi-pak at Lando, climbing to his feet, following Luke back through the cabin to the hatch. "We gotta do something about those," Luke told him.

Chewie looked out, whuffing a sighed comment as he saw the footprints. He mewled, throwing his hands in the air, disappearing back into the cabin. Luke left him to it, checking the hanger quickly. Reaching out to gather the Force he ran lightly down the ramp towards the elevator.

Admiral Yommo walked into Anjouk's office, the expression on his face as he acknowledged the bounty hunter's presence, smugly pleasant, "Sir, we have just received information that two Rebels, believed to be Skywalker and Calrissian were kidnapped by a bounty hunter on Demerin. The Senate is advising all outposts that Bouush may try to make contact and is ordering them to act accordingly."

Anjouk turned, looking up at the bounty hunter, "I think Bouush will agree that we have fulfilled those particular orders." The bounty hunter inclined his head, and Anjouk turned to Yommo, "Have we made any reply?"

"No, Sir. I thought that you may wish to reply personally."

Leia smiled, deciding that now was as good a time as any to free herself of the Grand Moff's presence, _Your hospitality is appreciated, but I must return to my ship. You must understand that if I am away too long, the Wookiee begins to fret_.

"Yes," Anjouk agreed, "Yes, of course." He checked the chronometer, "My men

should have finished the arrangements for payment. I have ordered them to deliver it to your ship. They will be most willing to help load it, if you are in need of assistance?"

_My thanks. But the Wookiee will manage_

Anjouk stood, pressing a button on his desk. Almost instantaneously the door opened, a young man appearing behind Yommo. "Lieutenant," the Grand Moff ordered, "take the gentleman back to his ship."

Bouush turned, inclining his head before following the officer, the droid shuffling after them. Anjouk wrinkled his nose at the stench the bounty hunter had left behind as he sat back down, steepling his fingers, deep in thought. A necessary, if repulsive, evil, he acknowledged. He had never liked the Empire's use of them.... but it had to be admitted that sometimes they were indeed useful: like now.

"Thank you, Admiral," Anjouk told Yommo, "I will advise you when I am ready to inform the Senate." The Admiral saluted, turning smartly, walking out the door.

First Antilles had fallen into their laps, the Grand Moff reflected. Now Calrissian and Skywalker had been delivered, with the promise of Organa and possibly Solo in the not too distant future. With Skywalker in their grasp the Rebel Alliance was finished... but if the bounty hunter was indeed true to his word they could annihilate it! Mon Mothma and her misguided cronies would finally be eradicated as a thorn in the Empire's side.

Anjouk reached for the call button on his desk, deciding it was time to see Skywalker again. His brief meeting with the Rebel Colonel in the hanger, had been a little one sided... And then, of course, there was Calrissian. The Grand Moff wondered if the man realised just how great a mistake he had made in that little show of bravado... The terrorist General must obviously be taught some manners.

But first he would find out what information Antilles had given them: Daevith had reported nothing to him yet. And vengeance would be so much sweeter when he had the information to back up his intimidation. He pressed the switch, "Commodore Gresse, find out why Major Daevith is taking so long. Inform him that I wish to see him immediately."

~ # # ~

Luke checked the corridor, pulling back quickly, pressing himself into the wall. A squad of stormtroopers clumped heavily past, heading towards the bridge that housed the control unit for the tractor beam. Luke stepped in behind the last trooper, following them the short distance along the corridor and onto the bridge.

Side-stepping quickly, he disappeared round the ledge, behind the bulk of the control unit. Moving from one console to the next he eased the handles down, listening to the hum from each one dying to silence as he closed the controls. Finished, he continued round the ledge, onto the bridge, jogging silently after the squad of stormtroopers, towards the main reactor area.

~ # # ~

The door of Antilles' cell opened, the guard stepping down the first step. Shock pulled him numbly to a halt and he stood for a moment, mouth slightly open, breath starting to come in short, sharp gasps. Swallowing down nausea, he finally remembered why he was there and turned, rushing out of the cell, back down the corridor to the hall area. Face draining of colour, hands trembling he toggled the switch, "Commodore Gresse?"

Gresse heard the strange tone in the man's voice. He slapped the intercom, "Yes?"

"Sir," the disembodied voice panicked, "Antilles is gone! Major Daevith is.... is dead. His... his head..."

Gresse couldn't afford to wait for the man's explanation. "Check Calrissian's cell!" he ordered, stomach turning suddenly to lead. "And Skywalker's!"

There was a moment's delay as the guard scurried to the respective cells, his panic growing as he found the first empty and two unconscious soldiers, one stripped of his armour, in the next. He ran back to the hall area, almost losing his footing on the steps in his haste. "Sir," he choked, "they've gone!"

Gresse closed his eyes for a moment, wondering how he was going to break this news to the Grand Moff. "Sound the alarm!" he told the guard. Then stood, straightening his uniform. He reached Anjouk's door as the klaxon began to whoop.

Anjouk was already on his feet, "What? What is it?"

"Sir, Skywalker, Calrissian and Antilles appear to have escaped."

"Impossible!"

"I... I'm sorry, Sir, but..."

"Find them, Commodore!" Anjouk told him, voice dripping ice. "How far can they get? And bring me the Bounty Hunter!"

~ # # ~

In the hangers of the command carrier, pilots raced for their ships. Ackbar surveyed the scene with Han Solo, watching the ground crews pulling away pipes, scrambling up the sides of the fighters after their pilots, strapping them in as they initiated the start checks. The noise level began to build as one by one engines gunned into life, engineers dropping back to the ground, canopies hissing closed.

Finally, beside them, the engines of the Falcon wound slowly upwards towards idle as Solo's new co-pilot brought her to life. Han turned to Ackbar, "I'll have to go, Sir."

"Of course. General... May the Force be with you."

Han gave him a lopsided grin, then turned, striding up the ramp into the _Falcon_. Ackbar watched the ramp hiss closed, then moved back, leaving the hangers to the crews, making for his bridge.

Han strode along the corridor, turning into the flight deck. Medith glanced back at him, continuing with the checks, "Everything in the green, Sir," she told him reaching the bottom of the final list as he slid into the left hand seat. "This little lady's ready to go."

Han settled his headset onto his head, moving the mouth piece as he said, "Control, _Falcon_, ready to lift."

"_Falcon_, you're number one. Clear lift. May the Force be with you, Sir."

Han smiled, reading back, "Number one, clear lift. Thank you Control." He turned to Medith, warning good naturedly, "Don't dent her!"

Medith gave him a sour look, then grinned mischievously, telling him gravely, "I'll do my best not to, Sir."

On the bridge Ackbar watched with the rest of the bridge crew as fighters and bombers glided gracefully from the belly of the flagship, turning and heading for the first jump©off point. He listened intently as General Solo's voice ordered, "All wings report."

One by one the pilots checked in, announcing their readiness. The flights continued away from the flagship for a moment longer, then Solo's voice crackled over the radio, "Lock jump co-ordinates." There was a pause while he gave them time to comply, then he told them, "Jump in five.. four.. three.. two.."

~ # # ~

The elevator doors opened. Leia saw the broken X©wing lying awkwardly on its nose and one wing tip, and recognised what had to be Luke's handiwork. Grinning at the obvious havoc it had caused she stepped out, into the hanger. And stopped dead as an alarm klaxon began to howl. Spinning round she dragged the unsuspecting Lieutenant out of the elevator as the door started to close, barking at him.

"Master Bouush wishes to know what is going on?" the gold droid at her side translated for him.

"I... I don't know..."

"Then Master Bouush," the droid informed him pleasantly, "suggests that you find out."

"Em..." the man began, then visibly pulled himself together, "Yes, of course. Tell him to remain here."

Leia turned back to the ship as Threepio relayed the instruction. Chewbacca stood in the hatch. He nodded slowly twice, indicating that Lando and Wedge were on board and that Luke was already out in the depths of the station. She swung her rifle, tapping the muzzle against her face plate, signalling that she had understood. The Lieutenant had returned, "It appears that the prisoners you brought in have escaped. The Grand Moff wishes to see you."

For one awful moment as the droid translated, he though Bouush was going to strike him. Then the bounty hunter snapped something at him and disappeared into the elevator. The Lieutenant looked at the droid.

"Master Bouush asks you to convey to the Grand Moff that his troops are weak-minded fools and that he was warned not to underestimate Skywalker. Your troops are to concentrate on finding Calrissian. Master Bouush will go to the Grand Moff when he has secured Skywalker. Again."

~ # # ~

Chewbacca loped back through the living quarters of the ship, towards the cell. Lando was already dropping into the hiding place, lying down next to Wedge. The Wookiee brayed at him.

"Don't worry," Calrissian assured him, "we'll be fine. We've got everything we need. I'll make sure Wedge is okay."

Chewie whuffed something else, then turned, reaching up for the remote switch, making sure that the floor of the cell slid into place above Wedge and Lando before running back to the hatch.

~ # # ~

The door chimed, pulling Mon Mothma away from the mission brief that she was reading, yet again, "Come." The door to her office opened, admitting her aide who showed Governor Rieekan into the room. Mothma thanked the young Commander, rising to her feet, moving to meet Rieekan as he walked across the thick carpeting towards her.

"Admiral Ackbar has just reported in, Ma'am. All ships have been launched. They completed the jump into hyperspace a few minutes ago."

Mothma simply stood looking at him, as if she couldn't quite take the news in. She looked away from him for a moment, twisting her hands distractedly. When she looked back her expression was haunted. "Thank you," she told him, her voice no more than a whisper.

"Ma'am?" he began gently.

She saw the concern in his face and reached out, resting a hand on his arm. "I'm fine. Honestly.... But, if you wouldn't mind. I'd like to be alone for a little while."

"Of course," he nodded, turning back towards the door.

She waited until it had closed, then crossed the room to the balcony doors, walking outside. The sun spread its warmth over the city laid out below her. She moved to the railing, placing her hands on the warm metal. Free citizens, unaware of the drama being played out half a galaxy away, went about their unconcerned business. Despite the heat of the late afternoon, she shivered. Closing her eyes, a headache beginning to pound behind her forehead, she tilted her face up to the light, suddenly terribly tired.

Children's laughter floated up to her, children not all that much younger than some of the people who would die today in the cold, vacuum of space... and yet if they didn't die... Tension abruptly took its toll, sweeping away the last vestiges of rationale. A wail of grief, from the core of her very soul, tore its way through her to the surface. Her body failed her and she crumpled onto the stone flags.

Concerned hands reached for her. She opened her eyes, looking into the worried face of Governor Rieekan. Her perspective tilted again, disorienting her and she collapsed against him. He wrapped his arms round her then gently lifted her, cradling her like a child. He carried her inside, dispatching the stunned Commander to bring blankets, setting her down on the couch.

"I'm sorry," she murmured after a moment, her body shaking as she tried to sit up.

Rieekan pressed her shoulders firmly back down onto the couch, "For what, Ma'am."

"Being so stupid..." she said as he walked across to her desk pouring a glass of cold water.

"Never happened, Ma'am," he told her softly as he returned to the sofa, handing her the liquid. He waited until she had taken a sip then pulled a stern face. "How much sleep have you had over the past four days?" he demanded, gently. "Or food, for that matter?"

She shook her head slightly, unable to give him an answer. The Commander had returned, carrying the blankets. Rieekan stood, taking them, telling him, "Any calls that come in...."

But the Commander interrupted, "I'm sorry, Sir, but Mon Mothma is in deep discussion with yourself and cannot, unfortunately, be disturbed. I'll see to it that any messages left are given to her as soon as your meeting is over."

Rieekan smiled, "Good man. See if you can find something to eat?"

"Straight away, Sir."

~ # # ~

The klaxon still whooped its message. Luke stepped out onto the ledge, gazing round the immense semi-circular cavern of the main reactor area. The primary walkway ran round the outside edge, thirty feet above him, the nearest access door onto the walkway sixty degrees to his left. And that was where he would find the controls for an extending bridge across to the main reactor pile. The thud of running feet in the corridor behind him warned of approaching troops. He stepped out of the doorway, along the ledge, staying still and waiting to see if any were going to be stationed at the entrances. The thump of footfalls disappeared along the corridor. Luke waited a moment longer, just to be sure, scanning the area for any hidden traps.

Finally, when he thought it was safe to move, he opened himself to the strength of the Force, using it to steady himself as he ran lightly round the thin ledge towards the bridge controls. Stopping beneath the access door, he leapt, the energy his Jedi training tapped into letting him soar high into the air, catching an easy hold of the underside of the walkway. He dangled for a moment, then swung his legs, gaining momentum before swinging them up, letting go of the structure as he reached the top of the arc, sailing gracefully over the guard rail to land lightly on the grid metal floor plating.

Pausing again he listened for any signs of trouble, before turning, pressing the bridge controls, stepping onto the edge as it slid silently from beneath the walkway. It would have carried him halfway across the gap, but he didn't wait. Instead he moved back, taking a short run, using the power that coursed through him to leap the distance across to the other bridge that moved slowly towards him, running along the still extending link to the reactor.

His target area lay another fifty feet below. Lying down he slid over the edge of the platform until he was hanging by his fingers. The reactor casing tapered away from him, but there was another, small ledge running just above the area he wanted. Swinging his legs again, he let go, impetus throwing him in towards the ledge, drawing once again on the Jedi source to slow his descent as he dropped. His hand snagged the ledge, tugging him to a stop.

Reaching into the pockets of the belt with his other hand, he retrieved the Time-delay devices, placing them on the ledge, setting the timer. Taking the first one, he pressed the remote activation switch, then reached down, securing it to the side of the reactor. Shuffling along the ledge with his fingers he did the same with five others, then pulled himself up. There was just enough room to stand on his toes. Carefully he reached down, lifting the remaining three, securing them to the reactor, equidistant, above him. Easing himself back round to below the platform he dug out a length of rope that had a small grappling hook attached to one end. Sweeping it up, he guided it outwards, dropping it onto the platform above him, then swung out. Pausing to gauge the swing, he pulled himself hand over hand, moving steadily upwards.

He grasped the edge of the platform, drawing himself up. Then retrieved the hook before racing across the bridge, back towards the access door. Half way across he reached out, visualising the controls, using the Force to activate the switch. Silently, the span folded in behind him.

~ # # ~

Where in all hells was he? Time was beginning to get tight!

Leia stopped. Calming herself, slowing her breathing she concentrated, stretching out through the Force and the link that bonded her to her twin, to find him. He was three, maybe four, floors below her, moving back towards the hanger area. Well away from the centre of the station and the explosives he had set. Reassured, she checked her bearings, then moved on to intercept him.

~ # # ~

Luke slowed to a stop at an intersection, checking quickly round the corner. A platoon of stormtroopers stood, guarding an elevator entrance. Luke pulled back. Visualising the elevator doors he reached out quickly through the Force, activating the call button. Moments later he heard the door open, listening to the shuffle of feet as they turned. Quickly, he crossed the corridor.

"There he is! You! Halt!"

Luke swore and took off along the corridor, reaching inside his tunic for his lightsabre. Blaster fire ricochetted around him covering him with debris as he ducked, swerving along the corridor as he ran. He skidded to a halt, about to turn down another passageway, rapidly changing his mind as a squad of stormtroopers pounded down it towards him. Twisting away, he continued down the corridor, thumbing the lightsabre on. Focusing his concentration he called out silently to his sister.

Leia. Help

Three floors above him, Leia hesitated, suddenly getting a strong feeling that something was wrong, that Luke was in trouble. Gathering everything she had learnt of the Force she reached out, sensing his presence again, the anxiety that he radiated. She started to run. Turning into another hallway, trying to find the quickest way to him, she almost collided with a grey uniformed officer. Catching hold of his jacket, she demanded, "Skywalker?"

"He's been seen two decks below...."

She shoved him ahead of her, "Take me!"

Blaster fire sizzled past Luke, hitting the wall ahead, sending fiery sparks of liquified metal towards him. Instinctively he pulled his arm up to cover his eyes, dropping to the floor, rolling, coming back to his feet at a run. Leia was close by, her presence growing ever stronger. With any luck she'd be waiting for him round the next bend.... Luke slid to a halt as two stormtroopers stepped out in front of him at the end of the passage, bringing their rifles to bear. He risked a glance behind. The others were closing in and, he realised with a pang of trepidation, there was no-where to go. This was going to be tricky, he thought, wryly. The two stormtroopers fired. Luke fended off the bolts with the lightsabre.

"_Luke_!" Leia's voice screamed in his head. Then she appeared, behind the two troopers, her rifle already aimed at him. In a sudden flash of understanding, as she shoved first one, then the other man onto the floor with a foot in their back, he lowered the lightsabre slightly. Leia squeezed on the trigger, aiming for Luke's heart. He flashed her a grin, letting her know that he understood. Satisfied that he knew her aim, she fired. He moved slightly to the side as the rifle discharged its load, deflecting the bolt deliberately to hit him high on the shoulder. He allowed the blow push him round, letting the lightsabre fall from his hand at the last moment as he crashed to the floor.

~ # # ~

Turning the corner, slightly behind the bounty hunter who had raced ahead as they heard blaster fire, the officer saw Skywalker. His escape was cut off this end by two stormtroopers, another squad pounding towards them from the other end, blocking Skywalker in. Astounded, he watched as the bounty hunter kicked the two stormtroopers to the ground out of the way, aiming his own rifle at the Rebel Colonel. Skywalker had no chance, his weapon no match for the bounty hunter's. Bouush fired at almost point blank range. The Colonel jerked, spinning round as the laser bolt hit him, throwing him to the floor. He landed on his side, momentum pushing him along the floor for a few feet and onto his back. He tried, once, to get up. Then he lay still.

Keeping the rifle trained on the Rebel, the bounty hunter walked over, scooping up the man's fallen weapon, clipping it onto his belt. There was a moment's awed silence, then the officer moved. Blood smeared a stain along the floor where the Rebel had landed. "We'll take him from here," he informed the bounty hunter.

Bouush looked up at him, slowly, "And let him escape, again?" He gave a short laugh, shaking his head. Holding out an armour-gloved hand to the Platoon Commander, he demanded, "Binders?" One of the squad stepped forward, handing over a set. Slinging the rifle over his shoulder, the bounty hunter bent down, flipping the Rebel onto his front. Then put a knee in his back, wrenching his arms up, securing them none too gently, behind his back, at the wrists. The Colonel moaned. Standing, the bounty hunter reached down for Skywalker's uninjured arm, dragging him to his feet.

"I will take him to the detention block! Alone! You will tell Anjouk"

The Imperial officer had, at first, opened his mouth to protest. But now the whole idea made perfect sense to him. "You can take Colonel Skywalker to the detention block," he agreed, "alone. I will inform the Grand Moff." He motioned the rest of the stormtroopers out of the way. They all moved back against the wall as the bounty hunter shoved the Rebel forward towards the nearest vacuum elevator.

~ # # ~

Gabhaan's X©wing dropped into normal space, taking up position behind Jomanock, checking for the third member of the team directly to his left. The _Millennium Falcon_ soared into view. "All wings check in!" Jomanock ordered.

Gabhaan pressed the transmit switch, "Red Three, standing by."

Jomanock listened as one by one the X-wing pilots acknowledged their presence. Looping the Falcon round, Han watched the Y-wings appearing in formation behind the T-65s. Closely followed by A-wings.

Content that all of his wings were present, Jomanock ordered, "Lock foils in attack position." He leant forward, activating the switch, grinning as he heard the low rumble of His own fighter's foils extending, the slight thump as they locked open. "Switch to strike frequency," he directed, flipping the radio switch. "Falcon, X-wings accounted and ready to go."

"Roger that, Red Two. Standby."

"Falcon," another voice crackled, "Y-wings accounted and ready."

"Roger that, Gold Leader..... On my mark..."

~ # # ~

Anjouk strode out of his office onto the Command Deck. Yommo straightened up from the console, turning away from the young Commander towards him, "Sir, enemy ships dropping out of hyperspace at point four-five, running in towards us."

"Type?"

"No larger class vessels as of yet, Sir. All small fighters or bombers, X, Y

and A-wing class."

Anjouk frowned. So they were, after all, sending glow-worms against a caamilaed.... He smiled, coldly. They must truly be mad. He turned, "Battle stations!" Then, almost as an after-thought, he ordered, "And launch our fighters."

~ # # ~

Luke sank against the wall of the lift as the door closed, Leia ordering it to take them to the landing bay. His shoulder burned viciously, stabbing needles of pain across his chest and down his arm. He closed his eyes, face pale, perspiration beading his forehead. Leia touched him lightly on the other shoulder. He opened his eyes, sensing her concern, assuring her, "I'm fine..."

She nodded, briefly inspecting the wound, then unhooked the lightsaber from her belt, pressing it into his hand. He took it, asking, "How are we doing?"

"Running out of time. But not too bad," she told him, relieved that the fabricate voice filtered out the worry she could hear in her own ears. He nodded, closing his eyes again. The elevator slowed towards a halt and he pushed himself upright, Leia grasping hold of his good arm, positioning herself slightly behind him.

The elevator doors opened. Bouush hurriedly pushed Skywalker across the

hanger towards the ship.

Leia jumped, the breath catching in her throat as an alarm klaxon pierced through the hanger. "Full Alert. Full Alert. All personnel to Battle Stations," a male voice demanded. "This is not a drill. All personnel to Battle Stations."

Chewbacca brayed at them from the hatch of the ship. Leia helped Luke run the last few feet to the ramp. Chewie had already disappeared into the flight deck as they ran inside, Leia slapping at the hatch switch, listening to it hiss shut behind her. She stopped briefly, looking at Luke, who waved her away.

"Master Luke!" Threepio began, voice relieved and cheerful as Artoo beeped at them excitedly. "Oh my, and to think that Bouush was on our side after all..."

Leia sank into the co-pilot's seat, ripping off Bouush's helmet, reaching for the radio.

~ # # ~

The fighters swept across the surface of the Death Star, strafing it, dancing round the laser fire the gun emplacements spat at them. A Y-wing, seconds too slow, took the full force of one of the blasts, exploding into the surface. Han winced. On the far side of the station, just above the horizon, an X-wing died in a blaze of flame. The B-wings manoeuvred around the TIE launch bays, A-wings behind. Han watched as the first Imperial fighters died in blasts of fire before they'd even cleared the bays. A single TIE made it, soaring away, A-wing tight on his tail. One B-wing stayed still too long, trying to line up another shot, and disintegrated in a brief explosion of fire as the station's surface batteries locked onto him...

The radio crackled into life. "Jabba, this is Yavin Four. Jabba this is Yavin Four, do you read?"

"Yavin Four, Jabba, go ahead!" Han ordered, relieved to hear Leia's voice, anxiety still wound round his guts. He glanced across at Medith, seeing his own concern mirrored on her face.

"Jabba, mission accomplished. Mission accomplished. We're coming out!"

Relief swept through him and he grinned, "Roger that, Yavin! We're waiting! Falcon to all flights, Cargo running out. All flights, Cargo running out!"

~ # # ~

"Sir, we're picking up an unauthorised transmission from inside the station."

Anjouk strode across to the console, "Where?"

"Deck eleven, section...."

"Sir," another officer broke in, "Commander Larre reports the bounty hunter's ship starting engines without clearance!"

"The transmission was from the same area, Sir."

"That ship is **not** to leave!" Anjouk ordered. What little games have you been playing, Bouush, he thought, turning to another officer. "Why aren't the Rebels ships being destroyed, Major?"

"They're moving too fast for our defences to get a lock on them, Sir. We're having to randomly target. And our fighters are being destroyed as soon as they launch. We have ninety percent casualties..."

"What is their target?"

"There doesn't appear to be one, Sir. They're simply strafing the surface..."

The Grand Moff turned towards the observation window. _What could they_

_possible hope to gain...._

"Sir, the tractor controls are off line! We can't hold the bounty hunter's ship!"

Anjouk crossed his arms, mentally noting to have **that** engineer transferred out of his command, anger building coldly inside him, "Track that ship, Commander and blow it out of my sky!"

~ # # ~

Luke propped himself against the door of the flight deck, watching the troops running towards them. The picture tilted, swinging round as Chewbacca lifted the ship from the deck, turning it towards the mouth of the hanger. Small thuds sounded against the hull as they stormtroopers started firing. Chewbacca growled deep in his throat, pouring on power, chuckling slightly as the ship shot forward.

A pair of X-wings sliced past their nose, Leia throwing up her hands instinctively. Chewbacca growled. Three pairs of B-wings headed towards them, followed by a pair of A-wings, dropping in around the ship, ushering them through the melee. Then the Millennium Falcon soared in, cutting round the back to settle beside them.

Luke opened his mind, gathering the Force. Visualising the timing mechanisms on the explosives crowded round the central reactor core, he reached out. The pain from his shoulder smashed against his concentration. He fought through it, the power of the Force flowing from his mind, expanding within him, drowning everything as he took command. He lifted his hand, closing it into a fist.

One by one the detonators sprang to life, timers winding slowly down.

"Leia!" he warned, the word a strangled gasp as he let go of his control over the Force, the pain crashing in again. Sheer will power kept him standing upright as Leia glanced at him. "The explosives are active..."

She turned back, keying the mike, "Han, get everyone out of here!"

"Copied!" he told her. "All flights. Break! Break! Break! Regroup and retreat! All flights regroup and retreat!"

~ # # ~

"Sir, the Rebel ships are breaking off!"

"What?"

"They're breaking off the attack, Sir, falling back."

"Do you have a lock on the Bounty Hunter?"

"We did for a brief moment, Sir, but there's too many others round it now!"

"Damn it to all hells, target all of them, man!" Anjouk spat, rounding on him, eyes blazing. "Commence primary ignition! This station is capable of destroying whole planets! Take them **all** out now that they're regrouping to one position, damn you!"

"Yes... yes, Sir."

~ # # ~

Luke turned, moving unsteadily out of the flight deck, using the wall as a support. Threepio jumped to his feet as he saw him, "Master Luke? Oh, Master Luke...."

"Threepio," Luke asked, voice grating pain, "help me." The droid shuffled hurriedly towards him and Luke draped an arm around him, steadying himself against him as they moved back through the cabin towards the cell area. Stretching out once more, he manipulated the Force, activating the doors for the concealed compartment. Lando was already on his feet as Luke reached the cell. He rushed across, "What the hells happened?"

"Long story," Luke said, attempting a smile, making the mistake of moving away from Threepio. He stumbled, his shoulder slamming against the wall, sending a crescendo of pain across his chest, down his arm. Lando caught him, easing him gently to the floor as the gold protocol droid looked on in dismay. Propping him against the wall Lando moved back towards the compartment for some medi-paks. "How's Wedge?" Luke asked, weakly.

"Better than he was, but not good."

Luke leant his head back against the wall, Lando dropping to his knees beside him.

~ # # ~

"Primary ignition complete, Sir. We will be ready to fire in twenty seconds..."

The station shuddered. Anjouk turned, indignant uneasiness moving swiftly towards a savage fear that twisted at the base of his spine. Alarm bells shrieked, red lights beginning to flash across the ranks of consoles. "Sir..." the terror in the man's voice was unmistakable, "Massive explosive failure...."

The deck trembled violently, pitching Anjouk and his staff to the floor. A deep, dreadful rumble that Anjouk felt, rather than heard, expanded towards him. The scream of metal tearing itself apart filled his ears with a wall of sound that crushed him to the floor. Flames erupted from the consoles. "_How_?...." he thought. There was a brief, impossible, impression of stars above him. Then the Death Star convulsed, shattering into an explosion of violent, searing light.

~ # # ~

"All wings, brace for impact!" Han yelled into the mike.

Leia turned, shouting back into the ship, "Brace yourselves!"

The paroxysm raced outwards, overtaking the Rebel ships, tossing them forwards in a wave of noise and heat. The Falcon bucked, Medith almost landing on the floor. In the bounty ship the blast knocked Threepio off his feet, throwing Lando against the wall, Luke toppling over onto the floor. Wedge moaned softly at the movement. Fighters and bombers slammed forward, juddering. Light debris rapped against hulls, then swept past them.

"Damage reports?" Han demanded as the surge continued away from them.

"Gold eight, I'm losing an engine, Sir. Debris in the starboard intake."

"Red three, same here, Sir," Gabhaan told him tightly, cursing his luck.

"Red two-one, Sir, think my Artoo's had it."

"Blue one-five.... I'm losing it here, Sir. I think I'm gonna have to bang out!"

Han heard the sizzle of sparks behind the transmission. "Blue one-five, if you need to eject, I'll bring you on board."

"Standby...."

"Blue one-five," another voice said, "You've lost half your tail plane!"

"One-five, get out," Han ordered, "I'll pick you up."

"Roger that, Sir! Banging out now!"

"Can the rest of you guys make it?" Han asked as Medith manoeuvred the Falcon.

"If someone gives me the co-ordinates at each jump, no problem," Red Two-one

answered.

"I've got enough power to punch into hyperspace," Gabhaan told him.

"I can make the jump," Gold Eight echoed.

"Fine. Chewie, everything okay over there?"

"We're fine, General," Leia answered. In other ships jaws dropped open, eyes widening in surprise as pilots recognised her voice.

"Red Two?" Han asked.

"Sir," Jomanock answered, recovering quickly from realising that the Princess had to have been one of the "agents"... Well I'll be damned.....

"Stay with Gabhaan and the others. Make sure they get back."

"Yes, Sir."

The Falcon had eased to halt above Blue One-five. "Then I suggest you all get

out of here now, in case we get company."

~ # # ~

Luke sighed, the pain killer kicking in, the dressing Lando was applying soothing the hurt. "Leia shot you?" Lando asked again, not quite believing what he was hearing.

"Ingenious, actually," Luke said, turning his head towards his sister as she walked through the door. "Either she took me down, or a squad of stormtroopers did. Her aim I prefer!"

Leia smiled, dropping to the floor beside him, "How are you?"

"I'm fine," he assured her, "Honestly."

"We've just jumped into hyperspace. How's Wedge?"

"Not good," Lando admitted, "I'll be a lot happier when he's in a medi-unit."

Leia rose, moving across to look down at Wedge. The bruising stood out darkly against the pale pallor of his skin. Bright, white dressings covered his lower arms and part of his chest, just below the collar bone. "Burns?" she asked, quietly.

"Standard Imperial interrogation technique...." Luke said, bitterly.

Leia sat on the floor, reaching out to brush the hair away from Wedge's forehead, seeing for the first time the needle marks below his inner elbows. "They used the mind probe," she told the two others, softly, "At least, I think they did." Instinctively she rubbed her own arm, just where the needle marks had been...

She heard movement behind her. Luke touched her on the shoulder and she looked round, giving him a sad smile, kissing him lightly on the cheek, "You do not badly at rescuing people from Imperial detention cells."

He grinned, the old Luke returning now that the pain of his injury had receded, "**You** ended up rescuing **me**, if I remember rightly!"

Her smile this time, as she blushed, was genuine, "Mmm," she admitted. "The walking carpet episode. I remember."

Lando quietly left the cell, moving back to the flight deck.

"I really couldn't stand Han then... strange how things turn out." She frowned, shaking her head in wonder, "And of all the people to turn up, you three did. And Ben... I've often thought about how differently things would have turned out if the Tantive hadn't been attacked when it was..."

Someone was talking at the edge of his consciousness. Wedge's eyes fluttered open. The pain was gone, he felt as if he was floating. There was movement beside him, someone calling his name. He turned his head. Luke smiled at him, the smile not quite wiping away the concern in his eyes, "How you doing?"

Something wasn't right, he felt strange, as if he wasn't really there. _The drugs_, his mind told him. "Fine," he murmured.

Luke grinned, "We'll have you back home as soon as we can," he promised.

There was someone standing behind Luke. At first Wedge had thought it was the Princess, but then he'd realised that Leia was sitting beside Luke. And now that he looked more closely at the other woman, he saw that the long dark hair fell in waves across her shoulders, rather than the curtain of silk that hung round Leia. _JavraH...?_ But it couldn't be! She was dead, he'd seen her killed, could still feel the waxy touch of her skin against his fingers.... She smiled at him, her orange flight suit pristine, the white over-vest almost glowing... and yet there was a smudge of soot across her cheek. Slowly she lifted her hand, reaching out towards him, palm upwards.

And suddenly everything made complete sense. He **was** going home, he realised, but it wasn't Luke who would take him.

There was something he needed to do first. He turned his attention back to the young Jedi, "Luke..." Luke slipped his good arm beneath Wedge's shoulders, lifting him slightly, cradling his head in the crook of his elbow: bending close to hear Wedge's murmured words. "JavraH... they tortured... her.... to make me... talk..."

Luke stared at Wedge in horror, hearing the small moan from Leia. They had all thought JavraH dead when her X-wing exploded. It had never occurred to them that she had survived. This only made the reality of what Wedge had endured all the more harrowing. Wedge was saying something again and Luke bent close, "Wedge, I didn't hear you."

"...killed her... she deserves to... be... remembered...."

Wedge looked past Luke at the slight figure of JavraH. She was still smiling, but she closed her eyes in acknowledgement of what he had done. He returned the smile. Tight agony ripped at his arm, slowly creeping up towards his shoulder and he gasped. Then relaxed into it, comforted by the sensation. He couldn't remember what it was like not to be in pain and the lack of it had been.... disquieting. JavraH was still watching him, the expression on her face calmly reassuring. He looked back at Luke, remembering everything they had been through with crystal clarity - from their first meeting in the war rooms of the Massassi base on Yavin, to the emotional celebration on Endor when Luke had arrived alive and well after the destruction of the Death Star: marvelling at how he had managed to find friendship like this. And he realised that he didn't want to leave: wanted just a little more time. But his body was failing him, darkness already beginning to tinge the edge of his vision. And he was so tired... he just wanted to rest. He had done everything that he could. And if the darkness claimed him he would never be able to betray his friends again...

A flare of pain crushed briefly across his chest. He closed his eyes, finally at peace, knowing that they would arrive too late, this time, to question him: letting himself slip gently into JavraH's delicate embrace.

Luke heard the slight intake of breath: felt the infinitesimal tremble in the Force. Wedge collapsed slowly against him. Luke frowned, at first not realising what had happened. Then refusing to accept it. "No," he breathed, "No... Wedge, please... No!" Not after all that he had gone through... he couldn't die. He wouldn't die. Don't do this to me.... please... no...

His throat had clogged. He couldn't move. He held Wedge in his arms, staring at his friend's face, unable to do anything but hold him. There was a small moan from Leia and she reached out to brush Wedge's cheek with the back of her fingers. Silent tears flowed down her cheeks. She crawled away, sitting against the wall, knees drawn up, arms wrapped round herself.

Acceptance finally pushed its way into Luke's numb mind. He hugged Wedge tightly, hands pulled into fists, allowing the tears to cloud his vision. "Wedge..." he murmured, softly, "Wedge..." There was movement at his side and he looked up at Lando. He opened his mouth to tell Calrissian that Wedge had left them, but the constriction in his throat choked him and the only sound that came was a sob.

Lando looked across at Leia, at the tears streaming down her face. She closed her eyes, shaking her head. Stunned, Lando turned, walking slowly back to the flight deck. He stumbled against the chair, falling into it. Chewbacca looked at him, frowning. "Chewie," he began, not knowing how to tell the Wookiee, finally blurting out, "Wedge has..."

Chewbacca had thrown himself out of the chair before Lando could finish, rushing through the cabin towards the cell. Stopping abruptly at the door. Leia sat at the back, head on her knees, her shoulders shaking, sobbing quietly. Luke sat in the open compartment, Wedge clutched in his arms, knuckles white. Chewbacca stepped into the cell, moving towards Luke. He knelt across from him, gently prising his arms away from Wedge, slipping an arm behind the dead pilot's shoulders and below his knees, lifting him away from Luke. He stood up carefully, then turned, tenderly carrying Wedge's body through to the cabin, laying him on the small cot. The young pilot's face was peaceful, a slight smile on his lips. Chewbacca stood looking at him for a moment, then pulled a blanket from the overhead locker, covering Wedge's body: as was the human custom. Threepio stood in silence. Artoo mewled pitifully and Threepio rested a hand gently on the little droid's dome. Chewbacca moved back to the cell. But Luke and Leia were in each other's arms, mourning together. He turned, leaving them to their grief, moving back to the flight deck. Emotion tightened in his chest, but he would not mourn the loss now. He would celebrate Wedge Antilles' memory later.

~ # # ~

The hanger echoed with cheering, shouted greetings and laughter as canopies opened and pilots and ground crew celebrated. Han grinned as he walked down the ramp of the Falcon, Medith and Blue One-five close at his heels. A pilot rushed across throwing her arms round One-five, catching hold of Medith, spinning them round, embracing them before disappearing. Medith laughed, looking across at One-five, who grasped her hand, tugging her into the fray. A young ground technician grabbed Han, planting her lips against his cheek, before being dragged away by another pilot. Solo shook his head, watching the revelry as he strode across to Leia's ship. The hatch was open, Chewbacca standing at the top of the ramp.

Han's grin widened and he began to run. But as he neared, Chewie saw him, loping down the ramp towards him and the shadow across the Wookiee's face told him that something was dreadfully wrong... _Leia_, he thought, his heart constricting. He raced the few feet to the Wookiee. "What happened, is Leia okay? Is it Luke?"

Chewbacca rumbled at him to shut up, taking his arm, guiding him quickly into the ship. Lando leant against the bulkhead, staring blindly at the floor. Han turned, opening his arms as Leia, her face stained with tears, stood up, rushing across to him, burying her face against his chest. Relief washed through him like agony as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. But if it wasn't Leia...

Luke was sitting on the edge of the cot, head bowed, Threepio and Artoo standing silently beside him. His tunic was ripped, a pressure bandage bright against his shoulder. And behind him, covered with a blanket... Han looked at Chewie, "Wedge?" The Wookiee nodded.

"We got him out," Lando said, his voice heavy with bitterness and disbelief. "He walked off that damned thing under his own power.... then, on the way back..." He trailed off, slamming the wall with his fist. Then pushed himself upright, disappearing past Han and Leia into the flight deck.

"His heart gave out," Luke explained, quietly.

Someone was walking through the hatch. Han looked round, to see Ackbar and two of his aides stepping onto the ship, medical droids following with a gurney. The Admiral took in the scene, feeling the grief that hung heavily in the air, seeing the blanket-covered body behind Skywalker and the droids. Then asked simply, "How do you wish to do this?"

Leia turned to him, confused, "What..?"

"The hanger out there is crowded with men and women celebrating this victory. They do not yet know what it has cost."

Leia turned to Han, panicking slightly. But Luke had risen, pulling the blanket away from Wedge's face. He looked down at him for a moment, hearing Leia's soft moan. But he had no tears left. He bent, lifting Wedge effortlessly in his arms, cradling his friend's body against his chest, like a child. He turned, walking down the cabin, stopping in front of the Admiral. Ackbar gave him one, simple nod of understanding, then moved towards the hatch. Luke followed.

The cheer from the assembled personnel echoed deafeningly round the hanger as Ackbar appeared. Then died towards stillness as he said nothing, silently walking down the ramp. Behind him Colonel Skywalker stepped out of the ship, obviously wounded, his face blank with grief: Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles, draped in a blanket, lying in his arms. Everyone had known Red Leader was being held on the Death Star. Everyone knew that **he** had been the cargo that was to be brought back to safety. The whisper started at the front, rushing quickly to the back.

"No..." Gabhaan moaned softly, closing his eyes. Jomanock reached out to grasp his elbow, steadying him, fighting down his own anger and sorrow: and guilt. Medith reached for One-five's hand, feeling the answering pressure of his fingers.

The Princess Leia emerged behind Skywalker, General Solo holding her close, her distress obvious even through her silent, graceful composure. The crowd parted, leaving a corridor for them to walk freely to the exit, everyone pulling their backs straight, standing rigidly to attention in respect.

Ackbar walked forward, Skywalker following. Leia tightened her arm round Han's waist, feeling his answering grip on her shoulder as they walked down the ramp and across the hanger behind Luke. Chewbacca remained at the top of the ramp. He tilted his head back, filling his lungs with air. Then roared his anguish.

Medith turned, burying her face against One-five's chest. Instinctively he put an arm round her, holding her. Gabhaan found the strength to remain on his feet, swallowing down the tears, the Wookiee's lamentation piercing his soul. He turned to Jomanock. The Commander's face was stark white against the orange of his flight suit. Gabhaan grabbed his arm, telling him hoarsely, "I need a drink."

Jomanock nodded slowly, letting Gabhaan lead him through the crowd.


	7. Day 7

**Day 7**

Vellin Rayne, Leader of Gold Flight, walked into the Rec. Room, searching through the bodies that littered the floor, looking for two particular pilots. A young woman, one of his own fliers, moaned softly as he touched her shoulder, opening bleary eyes. Groaning, she closed them almost immediately, hands flying to her face. Rayne grinned. She opened her eyes again after a moment, lifting her head off the table, squinting up at him, asking, "What's up, Boss?"

"You seen Jomanock or Gabhaan? X-wing jockeys?"

She held her head, delicately, "Em..." She thought for a moment, "Antilles' lot? They're all over there..." She pointed to another table on the far side of the room, then rested her forehead back onto the counter. Rayne shook his head, turning away. A pilot stirred as he passed, mumbling something before dropping back asleep.

Jomanock was lying beneath the table, curled round the central leg, snoring noisily. Gabhaan lay slumped in the corner of the bench, the body of a tall, well built young woman draped across his legs. Rayne sighed, bending down. Grasping a hold of his fellow Commander's flight suit he heaved Jomanock out from under the table, shaking him roughly awake. Jomanock opened his eyes, instantly shutting them with a groan.

"Jomanock! Come on, jump to it lad!" Rayne let the man go, walking across to retrieve a cup of cafin from the dispenser. Then returned, shaking Jomanock awake again, pressing the cafin into his hands, "Here, drink it!"

The Commander took it, sipping the warm, soothing liquid, his head thumping. He prised an eye open, peering up at Rayne, rasping, "What time is it?"

"Still early, but someone wants to see you. And Gabhaan." Jomanock turned, looking for the Lieutenant. "Don't worry, I'll deal with him next," Rayne assured him, "I just don't want you falling asleep on me again!"

"I'll be fine," Jomanock grated.

Rayne considered him for a moment, then decided that he would be okay and turned his attention to extricating Gabhaan from the other side of the table. He reached across, gently lifting the young woman, propping her against the Lieutenant so that she didn't end up on the floor when he lifted Gabhaan out. Finally on his feet, Jomanock helped him haul the young man across the table.

"I'll get some cafin," Jomanock said, beginning to look more human. Rayne smiled, shaking Gabhaan awake as the Commander crossed over to the dispenser. The young man's eyes snapped open. Startled, he gazed at Rayne for a moment before trying to get up.

"Whoa," Rayne warned, stopping him, "take it easy!"

Jomanock returned, handing a cafin to Gabhaan, who accepted it, savouring the flavour in his mouth. "You okay, Gow?" Jomanock asked.

Gabhaan looked up at him brightly, "Fine, Sir!"

The Commanders exchanged glances, Jomanock fixing the Lieutenant with an accusing stare, "If you're going to tell me that you don't get hangovers, Goddess forgive me, I'll smack you on the mouth!"

Gabhaan grinned, "Well, not all the time, Sir..."

Rayne rose to his feet, laughing, placing a hand on Jomanock's shoulder as the other Commander groaned heavily. "If you two are quite finished," he told them, "get a shower, get changed and be in..." He trailed off, changing his mind, "Just be ready in an hour. I'll come get you."

~ # # ~

Han walked up the ramp into the belly of the Millennium Falcon, searching for Chewie. He found the Wookiee lying flat out on a bunk, a half barrel of Chenyian ale lying empty beside him. The Corellian reached out, placing a hand gently on his partner's shoulder. Then turned, leaving the Wookiee asleep.

~ # # ~

"How you feeling now?" Rayne asked Jomanock as he lead the Commander and Gabhaan through the corridors of the ship.

"Better," Jomanock grimaced. In truth he was feeling a lot better, a shower and a change of uniform having done him more good than the three mugs of cafin he'd had. There again, the shots of cafin liqueur that he'd also dumped into the mugs might have something to do with his present state of health... but at least he **was** sober. He glanced across at Gabhaan. Bright eyed and bushy tailed, damn him! "Who is it wants to see us?" he asked, turning his attention back to the Y-wing pilot.

"General Solo. At least it was Solo who sent me to find you." Rayne stopped outside one of the smaller briefing rooms, "He's waiting inside." Jomanock noticed the look the other Commander gave him, "I'll be fine!" he assured him. Rayne dropped a hand onto his shoulder, then turned, moving down the hall.

Solo stood up, walking round the desk as they entered, shaking their hands, "How you doing?"

"All right, Sir."

"As well as can be expected, Sir," Jomanock admitted, closing his eyes, rubbing his hand across his face.

The General laughed softly, thinking of the headache Chewie was going to have when he eventually woke up, indicating two seats, "Please, sit down." He waited until the pilots had made themselves comfortable, then began, "There's going to be a ceremony tomorrow, posthumous presentation of the Alliance Medal of Honour to Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles.... and JavraH." He saw the startled satisfaction on Gabhaan's face and with a heavy heart explained, "She didn't die when her fighter blew.... they picked her up alive, used her against Antilles to make him talk." He paused, looking at them, but his eyes were focused light years away. "He wanted her remembered," he finished after a moment.

Gabhaan closed his eyes, hearing, but not wanting to accept what Solo was saying. The General was continuing, "They got Antilles out alive. Apparently he walked out of the cell and onto the ship under his own power... but it just wasn't to be. He told Colonel Skywalker about JavraH just before he..... died."

The two men opposite remained silent, each lost in their own thoughts. "Admiral Ackbar would like to know if you two would be willing to make up an Honour Guard at the ceremony: along with myself, Chewbacca, General Calrissian and Princess Leia. Colonel Skywalker will be accepting the medal for the Lieutenant-Colonel. JavraH's brother will be accepting her's."

"I would like that, Sir," Jomanock said immediately.

"It would mean a lot to me too, Sir," Gabhaan told him.

Solo nodded, "The ceremony will start at fifteen hundred hours. Be in the main starboard hanger by fourteen-ten. Full flight suit." They rose to leave. Han told them softly, "Thank you."

They both stopped, exchanging glances before looking back at Han. Jomanock nodded in acknowledgement then turned, walking out the door. Gabhaan began to follow then stopped, glancing back, "No, Sir. Thank **you**." Then he disappeared, the door hissing closed, leaving Han in his own semi-darkness.


	8. Day 8

Day 8

Han sighed, sinking into the chair, another glass of Corellian whisky in his hand. The day had not gone well. The hushed tones of everyone on the command ship had driven him to distraction long before the ceremony had taken place. Leia's grief - not just for Wedge or the other kid who'd died with him, but also exorcising the last demons of her own time on the Yavin Death Star coupled with the sudden realisation of how badly Luke **might** have been injured if that little stunt they'd pulled had gone wrong... For a while she'd been okay, pulling on a public face. She'd insisted that she be the one who attended to JavraH's older brother, meeting him when he arrived from the Talna base, guiding him through the medal ceremony with that infinite patience and grace she always used as a shield.

And then, of course, there was Luke. He'd stood by Wedge's coffin, aloof and detached, eyes blank and emotionless. Even when Ackbar had laid the Medal of Honour on the top of the coffin, there had been no reaction from the Jedi - almost as if he was totally demoralised, as if Wedge's death had somehow been the last straw of some greater catastrophe of which no-one but he was aware. Then afterwards he and Lando had drunk themselves quietly into a stupor and Chewbacca had eventually given Han a hand, getting the comatose kid into bed while he had handled Lando. Han sighed, muttering under his breath....

Chewbacca whuffed a comment, growling under his breath as he dropped into the opposite chair. "You said it, buddy!" Han agreed.

The door chimed. Han pulled a face, swearing as he dumped the glass on the table, dropping his legs onto the floor. He pushed himself to his feet, crossing to the door, throwing a "what now?" look at Chewie. The door opened.

Luke grinned at him, then tumbled into the room, missing his footing to sprawl in a heap on the floor, giggling. Chewbacca moved, Han reaching down, "Luke...." he breathed, exasperated.

"Hah!" Luke said, suddenly sitting up under his own power, grinning, "Fooled you!" The grin faded, "Man, do I have a headache..." Han and Chewie looked at one another as Luke pressed his hand to his head, starting to get up. Han took one arm, Chewie the other, hauling him to his feet.

"Thanks," he smiled, wandering across, slumping into one of the chairs.

"I'm surprised you're even awake, let alone walking!" Han accused, walking quickly to the table to rescue his whisky as Luke reached for it.

Luke shot them both a grin, "I sort of over-did it, didn't I? How's Leia?"

"Worried about you!" Han relented at the look on the younger man's face, shaking his head, "She's asleep at the moment...."

"Was asleep," a drowsy voice told them from the bedroom door, "How can so few people make so much noise!" Han turned as she wandered over and she kissed him then patted him on the cheek, looking up into his eyes. She started to say something, but he placed a finger gently against her lips, telling her softly, "I know." She smiled, reaching up to kiss him again, then turned, moving past Luke to sit on his other side.

"I hope you have a headache!" she admonished.

"Man," Luke groaned, "Do I ever..."

"Wedge would have been proud of you," she remarked, gently. "Even he couldn't put away as much alcohol as you did today!" she explained as he looked at her, expression puzzled.

He smiled sadly, capturing her hand, "I didn't handle it too well, did I?"

Chewbacca groaned a remark that brought laughter to Leia's face. Han swiped at him, "Don't listen to him, Kid!" Chewbacca chuckled, sitting down.

Han joined him, "Everyone thought you handled it fine," he assured Luke.

"Composed and reserved," Leia concurred.

"Yeah," Luke sounded unconvinced.

There was a moment's silence, then Leia began, "Do you remember the medal ceremony on Yavin. Afterwards, when you and Han got blind drunk..." She looked across at her lover, who's expression was suddenly innocently vague, "Wedge not only managed to get you to bed," she continued, turning back to her brother, "but got you sober for the next run..."

Luke nodded, slowly, "I don't remember much about the party, but I remember Wedge pouring this vile stuff down my neck!"

"And the time," Han added, "That he thought his luck was in with that brunette ground tech.... and it turned out it was you she was after!" Luke grinned, nodding. "You should have stuck in their, Kid!" Han reproached, "She was gorgeous!"

"She only wanted me for my body...."

Leia laughed, a warm, genuine sound that Han hadn't heard since before the evacuation of Mitre. Luke had blushed and Han couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped from his throat.

"So much happened, between Hoth and Endor..." Luke began again, the sadness back in his voice, "I thought I was doing okay.... but Wedge... finding him like that, seeing what he'd gone through. And then when he just slipped away.... I guess I just.... flipped," he finished, his eyes filling up again.

"We all did," Leia assured him. "Look at Lando.... and all I did was bury myself in arrangements for the ceremony...." She looked up at Han, who had moved to sit beside her, dropping an understanding arm around her shoulders, "Because it was the only way that I had to keep my objectivity..."

The intercom buzzed. They looked at each other, then Han leant forward, pressing the button, "General Solo."

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Sir, but the freighter Glan'enn has just dropped out of hyperspace. Her Captain is asking for either you or Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles."

Han looked at Leia and Luke. Leia shrugged. "Put him through, Lieutenant."

The three dimensional image of a grizzled, grey haired man appeared. He smiled looking round the room, "I'm sorry, General, am I interrupting something?"

Han shook his head, "No, we were just drinking to the memory of an old friend. We were jumped on the way to meeting you, Captain. Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles was taken prisoner.... he died..."

Anger and disgust washed across the man's face, "I'm sorry for your loss, General. When you didn't show up," he admitted, "we thought it had to be something like that, especially with the news of the Senate and that other damned space station. That's why we're here. Thought it was about time you guys got a little extra help, so I stopped off at a few additional ports and discovered that people are mighty worried about the goings on in Coruscant. As a direct result, I have four hundred cases of your fighter and bomber components on board. Not to mention three holds full of food and three hundred and eighty seven people crammed into this baby! **Not** including my crew...." He grinned, "General Solo, we offer the services of the Glan'enn, her crew and her Captain to the Rebel Alliance Forces...."


	9. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

It had been raining up until half an hour before, a deluge of water that had thrown itself down from the sky, soaking him instantly the moment he had ventured out. But now the sun was shining, bright and warm against his back, the smell of the damp earth still heavy in the air. But that was Yavin for you. It was the same every time he had come here for the past.... what.... six years? Seven? No, seven: nine years since they had finally defeated the Empire, seven since this memorial had been completed.

Colonel Jayde Gabhaan wandered further along the temple walls, his eyes running over the names inscribed in the stone: the names of every single Rebel Alliance casualty since before the destruction of Alderaan. Massassi, the place they had chosen to honour their dead, because that was where it had all really started: the destruction of the Death Star at Yavin. The first major victory for the Rebel Alliance after the Emperor dissolved the Senate and took power for himself. The first triumph in a struggle that had lasted longer than they could ever have foreseen. But they had persevered and finally prevailed.

He stopped, turning back, realising that, lost in his thoughts, he had gone slightly past the place. And there she was : Lieutenant Sharyl JhavraH. He reached up, brushing his fingers across the name, as he always did. Trailing to a stop at the carved representation of the Alliance Medal of Honour. "Hi, Jav," he whispered, "Long time, no see!" Strange to realise that she'd been dead almost as long as she had lived.... He looked away, his eyes misting, crouching down to place the bunch of flowers against the base of the wall.

Standing up, he moved back along the rows of names, just a few paces, his eyes automatically finding Jomanock's name. He stood for a moment, paying silent respect, then continued along the wall to the last place he always stopped: Lieutenant-Colonel Wedge Antilles.

There was a woman standing there. They smiled at each other, then returned to their respective silences. Finally she stepped forward, placing a lyna thorn-bud on the ground, beside the wall. She stood back, asking softly after a moment, "Who have you come remember, Colonel?"

He glanced at her, then admitted, "The first C.O. I ever lost, Lieutenant-Colonel Antilles."

She turned, "You knew him?"

Gabhaan nodded, "I flew with him the day he was captured."

"Beta flight...." she murmured.

He looked down at her in surprise, not quite sure that he'd heard her correctly, "What...?"

"I was the Controller that showed you out of Mitre...." she explained, her gaze still on Antilles name. "I gave him permission to go to his death. We were supposed to be having dinner when he got back."

"I was the rookie...." Gabhaan told her. "I'm the only one left now, apart from Solo. Jomanock was shot down over Che'Lan."

She nodded in understanding, "I don't think there's anyone who didn't lose someone at Che'Lan..."

"They were after Mothma..."

"They didn't quite get what they expected."

He grinned, "No..." Then he sobered, "But it cost us a lot... almost as much as Hoth..."

"I know," her voice filled with grief again, "I lost my husband there."

"Hoth?"

"No, Che'Lan... he was with Rieekan's forces.... I was with Solo's."

Gabhaan looked at her, incredulous, "You were **on** Che'Lan with Solo?" He whistled, "That must be some story!"

"We had some pretty hair-raising times dodging the Imperials...." she admitted with a sad smile, then turned to him, "Look, I need to visit Darik... my husband... but perhaps, afterwards, if you're not doing anything, we could meet? Talk about old times..." She shrugged her shoulders, "Get roaring drunk...."

"I'd like that," he told her, suddenly realising how much he wanted to talk to someone who had been there: who understood, who had known JavraH, Jomanock and the others, however briefly. Someone who could truly share the grief... and the pleasure, "I'd like that a lot. How about I meet you at the main gate in, say, an hour?"

"That's fine...." She laid a hand on his arm and together they walked towards Darik's name. Gabhaan left her, moving further along, back towards the gate. He paused briefly, first at Jav, then at Jomanock. "Sleep safely," he murmured. Then turned towards the future: and the past.


End file.
